


The Queen of Krypton

by Symphony_of_the_Damned (SymphonyWizard)



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Lucifer (TV), Smallville, Wonder Woman (2017)
Genre: Angst, Angsty Trixie, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Pete overcomes his inferiority complex, Rating May Change, Romance, Teenage Trixie Decker, please enjoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-01-26 01:33:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 77
Words: 278,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12545852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SymphonyWizard/pseuds/Symphony_of_the_Damned
Summary: What if the Queens found Clark in that field?  What if Clark Kent grew up as Oliver Queen's little brother?Starting off during the beginning of season four of Smallville, canonically, Oliver Queen has been home from being stranded on that island for only a month.  His parents are dead, his little brother is missing, and just when he's about to go into a downward spiral, his brother reappears.Together, Clark and Oliver try to figure out events currently unfolding in Smallville.  Oliver tries to make a name for himself at Queen Industries and Clark tries to navigate his final year of high school.  Plus, a man claiming to be the devil comes to town with an unknown agenda.  Romance, drama, angst, and betrayal ensue.Some Smallville canon. Some comics canon. Mostly AU. Obviously. :PMost chapters, other than prologue which is just an entry, begin with an entry from a journal kept by Robert Queen.Please enjoy.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [autumnstar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/autumnstar/gifts), [LokiFirefox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokiFirefox/gifts), [BadWolfRose (BadWolf1988)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadWolf1988/gifts), [phoenixnz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixnz/gifts), [BigRed67](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigRed67/gifts), [Superhero_Nephilim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Superhero_Nephilim/gifts), [Aeshna_cyanea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeshna_cyanea/gifts), [rach320](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rach320/gifts), [Keyser94](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keyser94/gifts), [thekiller00](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekiller00/gifts), [AXEe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AXEe/gifts), [Winchestergirl1967](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winchestergirl1967/gifts).



_October 16 th, 1989_

_I don’t know what I was expecting when I met the Traveler.  To be honest, for the longest time I thought it was a huge hoax.  A fictional messiah giving a group of rich people, such as me, my wife, Laura, the Swanns, the Luthors, and the Teagues an excuse to meet.  Don’t get me wrong.  Dr. Virgil Swann, even though he has suffered the tragedy of tetraplegia, remains a brilliant man.  However, even if I might have listened to his evidence suggesting that something or someone was going to come to Earth on this date, I secretly held strong doubts._

_Lionel Luthor, probably the most fanatical of the group, has strongly stated his intentions to control this so-called Traveler.  I have clashed with him many times since Dr. Swann started this stupid club.  More than once, he has poorly hidden his desire for my Veritas key.  I had very little interest in this society, but Dr. Swann has explicitly told me to not give my key anyone…other than the Traveler.  Despite my skepticism of all this, I listened to him._

_Then there are the Teagues.  Charming woman, Mrs. Genevieve Teague, but she is a woman with her own agenda.  I am not sure what her intentions are being a part of this society.  All I know is that she and her husband, Edward, have dedicated their lives to searching for these so-called “Stones of Power.”  Real or not, I am very worried about what they would do with them if they found them.  I do know that part of it all goes all the way back to some seventeenth century squabble between the witch Countess Margaret Isobel Theroux and Duchess Gertrude, an ancestor of Mrs. Teague._

_Given how fanatical Genevieve is, I pray to God that hunting for these Stones isn’t her undoing._

_All of this skepticism came to abrupt halt today.  A couple of days ago, I was planning a trip to meet some diplomat, but my son, Oliver came down ill, so I had to cancel that flight.  It turns out in doing so I saved the lives of my wife as well as myself.  I won’t tell Laura this, but one of our jet’s crew came to me later that evening.  Someone had sabotaged our plane!  By the time we were in the air, maybe an hour or two into our flight, the engines would have gave out, sending my wife and I to our deaths!_

_I have spent the last couple of days trying to figure out who could have tried to kill me.  Yesterday, Lionel Luthor came to my house in Star City for dinner.  I know the man enough to know when he is angry.  He thought I would have been in London.  I have no proof, but I believe that Lionel Luthor tried to murder me.  All through dinner, his face looked awfully inviting.  Many times, I found myself fighting the urge to pounce on him and beat the living hell out of him.  I didn’t want to cause a scene in front of my wife and son._

_I figured if he wanted me dead that bad, then there had to be a really good reason.  I found out that he had plans to go to some town in Kansas called Smallville.  I woke my wife up early and we caught a last minute commercial flight to Metropolis.  Once there, I rented a town car.  I didn’t trust anyone at this point, so I didn’t contact my chauffeur in Metropolis.  I do have to laugh at Laura’s discomfort riding in the front seat of a car.  Unlike me, she comes from old wealth.  She’s not a self-made billionaire like me, so she sometimes carries herself almost like royalty.  She’s even adverse to public hospitals.  Our son Oliver was in fact delivered right in our house in Star City.  I have more money than I can ever hope to spend, but I still very much prefer to_ go to a hospital _than have some highly paid family doctor visit my house._

_I much rather have houseguests be here for social or business reasons.  Not because I, or my family need a doctor._

_So my wife and I drove to Smallville.  It’s quite a charming town.  “Creamed Corn Capital of the World” the billboard advertised.  A little pretentious, but even so, I found myself tempted to try it, to see if it lives up to the claim._

_I didn’t know what I was to expect while being in this town, but suddenly, when Laura and I had decided to call it quits and go home, a meteor shower struck!  And this wasn’t like one of those meteor showers where you gaze up into the sky at night and see a bunch of shooting stars.  These were actual pieces of celestial rock the size of all the pickup trucks I’ve seen in town falling from the sky in every direction.  I didn’t know if I should have kept driving or stopped, but one meteor landed in my path and before I could come to a complete stop, my car fell into the crater.  A truck in the opposite direction also fell into the crater._

_Thankfully, it didn’t land on top of us.  When I came to, I only had a cut on my cheek; my wife had a broken arm and a slight concussion.  At least she was able to stand when I got out and pulled her out of the overturned car._

_If the meteor shower wasn’t strange enough, the next thing I saw was even stranger.  I saw a boy.  A boy!  He can’t have been any older than three years old, but there he was just standing there with no clothes on.  The next thing that happened made everything that I had been skeptical about a reality.  With his bare hands, the boy turned the car back over and did the same for the pickup truck._

_I don’t know what I was expecting when I discovered the Traveler, but I was_ NOT _expecting a small boy.  If this was the Traveler Dr. Swann prophesied about, I could not let him fall into Lionel Luthor’s hands. God knows what that man would do to this boy.  Eventually, the couple in the pickup truck came to._

_There was a spaceship in the crater as well.  It wasn’t going to fit into my town car which was still drivable somehow.  It was going to have to go into the pickup truck.  The couple, who upon introductions, I found out to be named Jonathan and Martha Kent, were as mesmerized as my wife and I were about the whole chain of events.  There was too much evidence for me to be able to claim the boy was my child, but we agreed that it was probably best not to take him to an orphanage or to the authorities.  They had the vehicle needed to transport the spaceship._

_Figuring out who claimed ownership over it turned out to be quite challenging.  I found the boy first and I thought that I ought to have the ship.  Mr. Jonathan Kent, who I soon discovered to be the most stubborn man I ever met, felt that_ he _should have the ship because he had the means to transport it.  Our argument escalated to the point that our wives had to shut us up._

 _Wives, being the devoted women they are, helped us reach a compromise.  The Kents would have the ship and my wife and I would have the boy.  In return for their silence about the whole event, that was a little trickier.  No words had to be exchanged to know that this man wasn’t going to be_ bought _off even if I am able to offer him enough money that farming would be more of a hobby rather than a means of making a living.  In exchange for everything, I offered to send what would be my_ two _sons to their farm for work at least a few weeks to a month each summer when they were both old enough._

_Jonathan Kent was smart though.  He wondered how he could know that I would keep my word.  I’ve never did a day’s farm work in my life, but since I was there, while I sent my wife home with…Clark we named him, I elected to stay in Smallville._

_Tomorrow, I am starting my first day of my seven days’ worth of farming.  A bit of indentured service, one might say._

_In one day, I gained a son, a friend (“the beginning of a beautiful friendship” as Jonathan called it) and I beat Lionel Luthor at his own game of deception._

_And my son Oliver gained a little brother._

_My life has just gotten a little brighter…and a lot more complicated.  I fear that very challenging years are ahead for me and my family._


	2. Chapter One

_June 22 nd, 1993_

_I’d like to think I knew exactly what I was getting into when I adopted Clark over three and a half years ago.  The whole adoption process, of course, was a complete sham.  Although, my wife, who is a lot better at dealing with those sorts of things than I am, made absolute certain that it was fool-proof.  I don’t go outside the law much if I can avoid it, but I needed to show that I had “legal” documentation showing that my wife and I are the legal guardians of Clark Queen._

_On an amusing note, it always brings a smile to my face, remembering how Lionel Luthor took me adopting Clark.  I am sure he was well aware of Clark’s true origins, but at the same time, he’s not very good at hiding his disappointments.  He’s a man who doesn’t like to lose and I believe for six months straight, he was a drunken mess.  I only wish his poor son, Alexander—or “Lex”—didn’t have to suffer the brunt of the man’s abuse._

_I feel so bad for that boy.  Before the meteor shower, ( the meteor shower that renamed Smallville “The Meteor Capital of the World”) Lex Luthor was a timid, shy little boy with red hair and a bad case of asthma.  The meteor shower seemingly robbed the boy of his asthma, but it also left him bald.  It was difficult not to stare at the boy’s head.  I had to remember that he’s not some cancer patient.  The way his father has looked at him since that day, in all the times I have seen them, he might as well be the scum of the earth._

_I can only hope that I don’t become that kind of a father._

_Raising Clark is a challenging task that only seems to grow more complicated as he grows older.  Right now, Oliver, who I am proud to say adores his brother and is extremely protective of him, is on his way to dealing with puberty in a year or two.  Clark, while only six right now, is a complication all on his own._

_Not long after Clark came into my life, my wife and I decided to part ways with Veritas.  Dr. Swann was the only one to wish us the best of luck in our lives.  I even tried to give him back the Veritas key, but he insisted I keep it.  Right now that man is the only person I trust with Clark’s true origins.  Somehow I think that finding out what the Traveler turned out to be—which is a mere child—gave Virgil a change of heart.  I believe I remain the only person he shared this with, but at this point, he only wants Clark to form his own destiny in life.  Not some preset destiny that has seemingly been laid out for him.  In fact, Dr. Swann wanted me to_ destroy _the Veritas key._

_I’m not sure why he would want me to do that.  He had reason to believe that whatever the keys led to, it would not be very good for my son.  Perhaps in the wrong hands they would.  It was one of the few times I lied to my friend’s face.  I did not destroy the Veritas key.  Instead, I have sealed it in a necklace that I had made for Clark.  For Christmas last year, I presented my sons with necklaces.  My son Oliver has a strong passion for archery, so for some time now, I have allowed him to work at his talent for it._

_Oliver has complained in the past that Clark is mimicking him, as Clark has also shown interest in archery.  While my wife and I listen to his complaints, the world I would use is “inspired.”  However, Clark, who seems to only be growing stronger all the time, has broken every bow I have tried to give to him.  I really want him to be able to have a bow of his own that won’t break under his strength, but so far, I haven’t found anything that would work.  I’m sure that I’ll find something that will work for him.  Eventually.  However, he has become very good at throwing knives.  In fact, the boys have started comparing and competing for whose skill is better—Oliver’s archery skills, or Clark’s skill at throwing knives._

_It’s quite entertaining as long as they continue to keep it civil._

_Until a couple of days ago, I never thought that Clark would start to display other powers besides his strength.  I was out for a morning jog and Clark wanted to join me.  I thought to myself that it might mean that I’d have to slow myself down quite a bit in order for him to keep up, but he was up and about.  Why not indulge him?_

_So Clark and I were jogging through our neighborhood in Star City and I decided to have a little bit of fun with him.  I pointed to the street sign down at the corner and I told him I’d race him.  Of course, I was planning on being deliberately slower so that he could win, but what happened next blew my mind.  Clark started running, but soon, he went from running faster than an Olympia gold medalist to disappearing right before my eyes._

_Now I knew he didn’t just “disappear” as I saw a trail of destruction in the direction he was going.  I hurried home and was about to call the police, but the phone started ringing as soon as I got home.  It was Clark.  He was in the middle of Chicago!  My reaction was threefold:  I was relieved that, despite his young age, he remembered to go to a payphone in case he got lost somewhere just like I taught him; I was in awe that he ran that far that fast in the five minutes it took me to run a couple of blocks back to my house; I was terrified because my son was all alone and probably scared to death halfway across the country in one of its biggest cities._

_I woke up Laura and explained to her the situation.  Her reaction was worse than mine.  She got frantic and I had to shake her to get her to calm down.  However, to be honest, I had to calm down as well.  Once we both settled down, I calmly told her that I was going to get on our jet to fly to Chicago to find our son and that I needed her to stay home with Oliver.  She clearly wanted to argue and I couldn’t blame her for wanting to come with me, but I needed someone at home that understood—or at least was_ trying— _to understand the situation._

_I got dressed, not really taking too much care in my appearance or even showering, and I left for the airport.  The entire flight to Chicago, I had to keep from biting my nails.  I could only pray that the right people found my son.  It was going to be difficult explaining to the police why a boy from Star City, California was suddenly in Chicago, Illinois._

_Well, having Clark in my life has forced me to learn how to be a better liar._

_When I got to Chicago, I went to the nearest precinct I could find.  Clark was not in that precinct, but with the description provided, including a small picture of Clark in my wallet, I was able to prove that he was my adopted son.  An officer offered to drive me to the precinct my son was at.  When I was asked what my son was doing in Chicago, so far away from Star City, I explained that I had been in Chicago with him several hours ago, but we must have gotten separated at the airport.  Instead of staying put like he should have, Clark started wandering around and eventually left the airport altogether.  As for me, I didn’t realize he was missing until I was close to Star City and I had to wait until the plane refueled._

_By coming up with that lie, I must have painted myself as a rather inadequate father.  I’m not an inadequate father.  At least, I try not to be.  I think Clark was too scared, too relieved, or too astounded to really saying anything contrary to that story._

_I think it was more the fear.  It brought tears to my eyes that my son was so frightened.  On the way home, Clark asked my why all these weird things were happening to him._

_He is too young to know the full truth of why all these things keep happening to him.  What I could tell him was that he is special.  Actually, the words I used was that he’s_ my _special boy.  I don’t know if I say it as much as I should, but I love Clark with all my heart.  A few years ago, I brought him into my house, my family, and my life because of my desire to protect him.  I wanted to spare him from others who might reduce him to a lab rat._

 _It was over time that I learned to love him.  Sometimes just calling him “my son” makes my breath catch in my throat.  It’s a little different than when I think of Oliver.  I love Oliver too with all my heart, but Clark is the son I_ didn’t _ask for.  Having Clark in my life and having learned to love him…I feel like I’ve gained just a little more humanity._

_It’s why I’m beginning to feel that maybe a mansion outside a major city like Star City isn’t the best place to raise a boy with superpowers.  I’ve discussed it with Laura and she agrees.  In fact, she’s been looking at houses for sale…in Smallville.  The one we agreed on is a $750,000 house.  A bit modest by our standards and barely outshines Lionel Luthor’s castle-mansion.  I grimace every time I think of that house.  A Scottish castle that was brought over to Kansas brick by brick and Lionel has no shame about it._

_We’ve made our decision.  The hard part is going to be figuring how to tell the boys that we are moving._

“So how did you injure your hand, Mr. Queen?” asks the nurse.

Oliver fights back a wince as she bandages up his hand, putting on a show of innocence.  “Um, I had a disagreement with a wall,” he explains wryly.  Yes, he punches a wall, having no idea that there just happened to be a stud right where his fist landed.  Tess found him…and then walked out on him.  “Ow!” he cries, yanking his hand away.  “You don’t have to be so rough.”

The nurse ignores his complaint as she rolls her eyes.  “Luckily, you have no broken bones, but I strongly suggest that you keep from using that hand for at least a week or two.  Otherwise, you might end up damaging your hand further.”

 _Like I would really care_ , Oliver thinks to himself.  It might just show how much of the mess he feels like. 

For five years, all he’s thought about is coming home.  He left home under really bad terms and that made things feel all the worse.  He had no idea that when he got out to sea that his crew would mutiny and throw him overboard.  Five years later and he still can’t decide if surviving and finding himself on an island was really a blessing or a curse.  All the events that ensued, everything that happened to him, it made him miss even the worst moments with his family.

Then, when a group of people, among them a marine biology student named Tess Mercer, finds him and brings him home, he finds himself in another hell.

He comes home to find out that his parents died a couple of years ago in a plane crash and his little brother Clark, disappears three months ago now. 

Oliver spent the last month searching for his brother.  He’s found nothing.  He hasn’t even found an inkling that might lead him to Clark’s whereabouts.  His obsession with finding Clark had become such a central focus that he has been rejecting Tess, or Mercy, as he had affectionately dubbed her. 

Truth be told, he really does like her.  He just hasn’t offered her the attention she deserves.  Now that she has claimed that she’s officially done with him until he pulls himself together, he has felt even more alone. 

The liquor cabinet became awfully inviting.  Now it’s progressed to a shorter temper.  He got angry over a spilled drink and he took a swing, not caring where his fist would land.  His fist landed on drywall with a stud behind it.  Maybe it was a wakeup call.

Oliver regards his bandaged hand critically.  That’s his drawing hand.  He hates to admit it, but he’s going to have to set the bow aside for the time being.  Vaguely, he remembers that the nurse said he could leave. 

Not seeing any more reason to be here, Oliver gets up and walks out of the room.  He’s on the way to the elevator when he hears his name.

“Oliver?” 

He stops in his tracks.  He recognizes that voice.  As he turns around, his eyes find Martha Kent.  Fairly pretty for her age, red hair that hasn’t started graying yet, and still adorably short as ever, the woman he grew up calling “Aunt Martha” looks no different than she did five years ago.

“Martha!” he greets.  They meet each other halfway and he allows Martha to look him over.  He just hopes she doesn’t lift his shirt.  He had to pull a lot of strings for the fact that his body is currently twenty percent scar tissue to not go public.  It’s not a feature that he’s proud of.  It just serves as a constant reminder of what he suffered.

“You look great!” Martha exclaims.

To his surprise, Oliver finds himself blushing.  “You look pretty good yourself.  How is Jonathan?”  Oliver always enjoyed the life lessons he received from Jonathan Kent.

“He’s are doing very well,” replies Martha happily.  “In fact, Jonathan has given thought towards running for State Senate.  I know, it’s weird,” she adds, as Oliver gapes.  He doesn’t remember Jonathan Kent ever showing any interest in politics.  If he does pursue politics, he will definitely support him, though.  “And we finally had a baby!”

A smile spreads across Oliver’s face. It was no secret that the Kents wanted a child and Clark and Oliver expressed hope that they would have their wish.  Turns out the Kent’s finally became parent.  Now that he thinks of it, Oliver wishes Clark was here so to share his excitement.  

“I can’t tell you how happy I am for you,” says Oliver sincerely.  

Martha smiles again.  “Jonathan and I are very proud.”  A brilliant thought must have crossed her mind, as her smile grows wider.  “You should come over for dinner sometime.”

Oliver smiles softly.  “I’d love to, but…I…I…”

A look of understanding crosses Martha’s face and Oliver allows her to put a hand on his arm.  “I’m so sorry that you had to come home to see your parents have passed away,” she apologizes genuinely.  “After you disappeared, Robert and Laura were a mess.  They spent so much of their time looking for you that eventually they sent Clark to live with us.”

Oliver is sure that they offered a smooth transition as best they could.  “And he ended up staying with you?”

Martha nods. “After your parents passed away, Clark came to live with us. He might have ended up living with the Sullivans instead, but Clark had started dating Chloe by then.”

Oliver cocks his head.  “As in Gabe and Chloe Sullivan?”  Gabe Sullivan is a banker for Queen Industries’ Metropolis branch and is also one of Robert Queen’s most trusted friends.  In turn, Chloe, that spunky aspiring journalist is—or at least was five years ago—Clark’s best friend.  Oliver doesn’t know about Chloe, but he knows for a fact that Gabe had earned the Queens’ trust to the point that he learned Clark’s secret. 

Oliver remembers clear as day how Gabe reacted.  He fainted.  When he came to, all he could do was ask Clark question after question—most of which Clark was still trying to answer—about what he was and where he was from.  All things considered, he proved to be very good at keeping Clark’s secret. 

And Chloe and Clark?  “Are you telling me my brother and Chloe Sullivan dated?”  He thought Clark would never have the guts to ask her out.

A grin spreads across Martha’s face.  “They were inseparable.”

Oliver frowns.  “Why do you sound so sad about it?”

Martha closes her eyes as she exhales.  “I’m sure you heard that Lionel Luthor is in prison?”

Oliver nods with a smirk.  He still can’t think helping that Mr. Luthor had it coming.  “What about it?”

“It was Chloe, with the help of Lex, who got him convicted,” explains Martha.

 _Way to go, Chlo!_ Oliver thinks. 

“I don’t know exactly what happened that led to your brother’s disappearance, but it was right before Gabe and Chloe were sent to a safe house by the Witness Protection Program,” Martha continues.  “Unfortunately, there must have been a bomb in the house and Gabe and Chloe…they didn’t make it.”

Oliver shakes his head.  He doesn’t know if Clark is alive or not—his gut tells him that he is—but if Clark doesn’t know that his best friend-turned-girlfriend is dead…it’s going to break his heart.

Martha smiles sadly, placing a finger under Oliver’s chin.  “Chin up, Ollie.  I’m sure Clark is out there somewhere.  If one of the Queen boys is able to come back, I have no doubt that they both will.”

Oliver nods somberly.  This woman is not his mother, but in the absence of his actual mother, she is a close surrogate.   “I’m going to get us some coffee.”

“Okay,” replies Martha gently. 

Oliver steps away from her and walks to the nearest coffee machine.  He grabs to cups and begins filling them.  He welcomes the sensation of warm coffee in his hands.

“Wait, get back here!” some young woman’s voice shouts. 

Curious, Oliver turns to see what the commotion is and what he sees makes him drop the cups of coffee. 

It’s Clark.  At least he thinks it is.  He’s quite different from the lanky kid that had girls drooling over him, but Oliver knows it’s him.

As if charged by a leap of bittersweet joy, Oliver runs after him.  “Wait, wait up!”  Dodging an orderly with a stretcher, he rounds the corner and his breath hitches in his throat as he sees his little brother—or rather little _big_ brother as they are pretty much the same height.  He doesn’t know who the blonde with the tan trench coat is and at the moment he doesn’t care. 

Closing the distance between himself and his brother, Oliver reaches out and spins Clark around.  Clark’s baby blues look really vacant for some reason.

“Clark, I thought everyone I cared about was gone, but…but you’re…you’re…” Oliver finds himself choking up, so he just embraces his brother again.  “It’s so good to see you again,” he says as he pulls away again.

“Who’s Clark?” asks Clark, sounding as blank as he looks.

Oliver frowns.  “Dude, don’t you remember me?  Oliver, your big brother, was missing for five years…”

“Don’t take it personally,” says the young woman.  “He can’t even remember his own name.”

Oliver regards her up and down.  Fairly tall for a woman, full breasts, hazel eyes, dyed blonde hair tied back slightly with a hair clamp…she looks kind of cute.  He’s not sure if she’s as pretty as Tess, but definitely beautiful.  “Who are you?”

“Oh, sorry, Lois, Lois Lane,” says…Lois Lane, extending her hand.  Oliver grasps it politely.  “I found him lying in a field off Route 31.”

“Thanks,” and Oliver means it.

“I guess I’m a sucker for stray dogs and naked guys.”

Oliver frowns at her.  “So is it a profession?  Finding stray dogs or naked guys and bringing them to the hospital?  If that’s the case, I could have used your help a month ago.”

Now Lois frowns at him.  All the while, Clark looks blank as a printer paper.

Deciding to end the awkward silence, Oliver focuses his attention on his brother.  “Okay, Clark, it’s time to go home.” Clark doesn’t budge.

“I’m waiting for the sign,” he says stoically. 

Oliver stops dead in his tracks.  "Oh, you've gotta be kidding me."  Just how much has he missed in the last five years?  He’s going to have to figure this out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I borrowed a few details from Arrow's Oliver Queen with the five years' absence instead of just two. And as for the scar tissue, even if Oliver was only stranded for two years, one would think that he would have at least some scar tissue. Though we never saw Justin Hartley's Oliver Queen with a bunch of noticeable scars...I don't think it would have ruined his image much. It just would have made the "stranded on an island for two years" more believable.


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, before anybody complains about the OOC of some of this, please remember that this is Clark Kent, or at least an idea of Clark Kent, if he were raised and nurtured by the Queens.

_May 6 th, 1995_

_I cannot stop smiling.  To some degree, I feel like I have become Lionel Luthor’s personal poltergeist.  Since moving into Smallville a couple of years ago, Lionel has barely paid any visits to his Smallville home.  In fact, I believe the longest that he’s stayed in Smallville at any given time is a week since then.  Not only that, but in the past five or six years, when my company and LuthorCorp got together to discuss business ventures, he himself has never made a personal appearance, always sending one of his lackeys in his stead._

_Yesterday, he visited my home for dinner.  I didn’t feel comfortable with my sons being around Lionel, so I sent them over to the Kents.  The boys always enjoy spending time with Jonathan and Martha.  They don’t always enjoy the farm work, but the Kents do keep them busy.  In fact, Martha has started teaching the boys to cook and bake.  Those are two skills my wife and I are a lost cause for.  Well, I take that back.  Laura can’t even make toast without burning it and I can make very little besides a typical breakfast of eggs and bacon._

_Maybe at some point, the boys will offer to cook dinner for us.  Maybe they will help Martha make dinner tomorrow.  We try to do it every week, but we often go over to the Kents for Sunday dinner.  I would never tell my butler this (who is an amazing cook and actually went to culinary school) but Martha Kent is quite possibly a goddess in the kitchen._

_Maybe it’s a little pretentious to put all the blame on me for Lionel’s absence from Smallville.  Very tragic, a few years ago, the Luthors welcomed their second son—I believe his name was Julian—into the world.  It was perhaps the first time that I saw Lionel completely and utterly happy.  For maybe ten minutes, Lionel seemed human.  Then, sadly, Julian died of SIDs.  Afterwards, it seems like all traces of humanity that Lionel might have shown disappeared.  And then, a couple of years ago, Lillian passed away.  It seems that Lionel has lost all anchors reminding him that he is a human being and not just some megalomaniacal businessman building an empire._

_Every time Lex visits (which isn’t often) I find myself lecturing him and stressing life lessons.  It’s not my place—I’m not his father—but the boy really ought to have some uplifting pep talks in his life, not just the constant belittling and harsh criticism he receives from his father.  Something he hasn’t no inhibitions of doing in my home and in front of my family._

_Moving on, my boys have well integrated themselves to country life.  They complained quite a bit when we first moved in a couple of years ago, but did have some help smoothing the transition.  Before living in Smallville, all my sons knew of this town was the Kent farm.  One of the first people the boys made friends with are the Ross boys.  Pete and his brothers are fun to have around._

_Initially, they both were shunned by the Rosses.  Apparently Pete’s father had a falling out with Lionel and LuthorCorp.  Since then, they have been distrustful of the Luthors…and apparently anyone who they think is associated with them.  I can understand shunning people for the sins of the father.   However, I don’t appreciate people assuming that I am associated with the Luthors.  My company and LuthorCorp merge sometimes if it seems like it would be profitable, but I am no friend of Lionel._

_Anyway, the boys have been making friends.  Clark is much more introverted than Oliver is, really only having Pete Ross and another boy named Greg Arkin for friends.  In fact, he has his own “Fortress of Solitude.”  Actually it’s a loft above the garage.  It has a TV set, a pool table, a game console, some couches and lots of books.  It also has a telescope I bought for Clark, giving him something to improve his stargazing.  Clark spends more time in that loft than almost anywhere else in this house or in town.  Sometimes I have found himself sleeping in there, whether because he spent too much time playing or having simply fallen asleep while studying._

_I’m glad he has that den of his, but sometimes I worry he uses it as an escape.  Clark has a hard time making friends.  He has to hide who he is and he has to be careful about what activities he involves himself with._

_It’s going to take time, but I’m sure he will continue to make friends.  He already has a crush on a girl named Lana Lang.  I don’t know very much about her.  I know that he aunt is a prominent figure in town.  I also know, quite tragically, she lost her parents in the meteor shower.  What kind of person puts a person’s—much less a three-year-old child’s—tragedy on a pedestal by publishing it with the byline “Heartache in the Heartland”?_

_Even so, I don’t why, but Laura doesn’t like her.  I know that it has nothing to do with her financial status—my wife isn’t prejudiced like that—so I’m left to wonder why she doesn’t like this girl.  Not in so many words, but she has essentially told me she doesn’t like the idea of Clark pursuing a relationship with her should he ever get the chance._

_Laura’s not wrong about much.  I’ll agree with her if she doesn’t approve of the idea of Clark’s crush turning into a committed relationship, but I hope that Miss Lang at least turns into a respectable person._

_Oliver on the other hand, he’s become quite popular.  It’s possible that it’s simply because he’s a Queen, but he’s also a talented member of Smallville High’s gymnastics team._

_I find it very useful in my sons’ lives for them to know how to discipline themselves physically.  Oliver has actually won himself a few trophies for his talent on the high bar.  Clark, he’s a different story.  I wanted him to get into gymnastics like his brother, but Laura had other ideas.  She made me agree to sign Clark up for ballet when he was old enough.  And now he is._

_Oliver had a big, big laugh when the news was revealed.  Not just because he foolishly thinks that it’s unmanly for a boy to learn ballet, but because Clark isn’t very graceful.  Maybe I’m being a little defensive, but Clark has been trying to not be so clumsy.  He is clumsy and that’s exactly why Laura’s been teaching him the basics of ballet.  If Clark can control his body, have a little grace in his step, it’ll be less stressful for him trying to control his strength._

_One thing that he does do willingly is his piano lessons.  He started lessons a year ago.  It wasn’t pretty.  He smashed the keys a few times accidentally at first (and eventually I had to replace the Steinway altogether) but it’s another thing that has helped him learn how to regulate his strength.  It’s also taught him patience and to learn to control his temper, to not get upset when struggling with a new music piece._

_I’m proud to say that, for an eight-year-old, Clark has become quite skilled.  There are some pieces that he struggles with simply because of his child-sized hands and some arpeggios really stretch the hands._

_One of the first things that I discovered when my family moved to Smallville is meteor rocks.  I remember Clark and Oliver playing in the woods once and Clark slipped and took a tumble down a hill.  What he landed in horrified me.  Green and glowing, Clark stumbled into what I come to realize were meteor rocks.  Seeing what they did to him…I’m still not sure how to describe it.  I asked him and all he could tell me that it was like every part of him was on fire, like everything was twisting up inside him and he felt increasingly sick.  He might even have died!_

_In the two years since, I have had my people hoard as much of the meteor rocks as they could.  I try be as discreet about it as possible, but sometimes people end up asking what these Queen Industries people are doing with the meteor rocks.  I allow supervisors to come up with their own explanations, but when I am asked directly, I simply tell them that my people are studying them, which is perfectly true to a degree.  I don’t know whether Lionel has discovered the meteor rocks or not, but either way, I don’t trust what he would do with them.  Anything that was radioactive, I made sure Queen Industries got their hands on it before anybody else.  I’m not sure what I’m going to do with this ever increasing hoard.  All over the country now where there is a Queen Industries plant, there is a guarded unit housing meteor rock that can only be accessed by a very select group of individuals whom I personally trust absolutely.  I might have gone off the rails a little bit, but I simply don't feel comfortable with the idea of Clark accidentally stumbling upon some of it._

_However, as much as I hate having to, I have kept a small chunk.  It might be wise to have something to subdue Clark when he has a destructive tantrum (which is almost never)._

_I haven’t told anybody this, but I think I have found something to help Clark with his archery ventures.  I have tried everything and Clark has either broken or ruined every bow I’ve given him.  My investigations towards finding a material that will withstand Clark’s strength have led me to an antiques dealer in Paris.  They led me to a woman by the name of Diana Prince._

_I am on my way to Paris now.  Either way, I’m making sure Clark has the means to indulge in archery._

 

This is so weird.  Oliver came home thinking everyone he loved was gone and all he wanted was to just see one of them one more time.  Perhaps he should have been careful of what he wished for.  Here’s his little brother, as tall as he is, actually looking pretty good, and the moron can’t even remember his own name. 

Since coming home, Oliver hadn’t been in the loft above the garage.  There were too many memories of having spent time with his brother or just going up there to remind Clark that it was time for dinner.  He tried only once and he broke down before he even got to the garage.  He hasn’t even been parking his car in the garage.

The only way he even got Clark to come home with him was telling him that he would take him to “the sign.”  He took him home, to their large five bedroom-five bath house with a swimming pool, the four-car garage with the loft above it, and fifty acres of property.  They are surrounded by farmland, including the Kent farm, so there’s plenty of isolation.  At least enough isolation so that Clark can be who he is without worrying about the wrong people witnessing his powers.

If Oliver is going to be honest, he’s come to enjoy this old brick and wood house better than the Queen Mansion in Star City.  The rustle of crops, the _smell_ of crops, living in a town where no one locks their doors, it’s peaceful.  Oliver remembers his parents being scared by the idea of their doors being unlocked, but after seeing the Kents often with their door not only unlocked but _open_ , they eventually learned to do the same. 

And now here Oliver is, back in this house of memories, after five years of hopelessly hoping that he would return home, with an amnesiac brother. 

Oliver had already shown him through their house last night.  He showed him his bedroom with all his love of primary colors, some of their favorite places in the house, the piano in the sunroom that Clark pretty made his own, the ballet trophies their mother kept in a display (much to Clark’s chagrin, as Oliver amusingly remembers)…nothing.  Clark can’t remember anything!

Today, fighting back his growing desperation, Oliver decided to take Clark to the loft. 

Now as Oliver leads Clark up to the loft, he finds himself unexpectedly smiling.  On that island, he tried so hard to hold on to some of his favorite memories, but even his best efforts couldn’t keep his memories from growing fuzzy.  Now, some of those memories are coming back to him as clear as if it all happened yesterday. 

As he stands with Clark as the top of the stairs, Oliver’s memories can place Clark is virtually every part of this loft.  He remembers Clark stargazing with his telescope through the triple-paned window on the opposite side of the loft.  He remembers him sitting at the desk in the left-hand corner by the window with textbooks and his homework spread out everywhere.  Sitting in front of the television set—this one looks a lot nicer than the one Oliver remembers—playing Nintendo 64 games and having movie nights.  Sitting on the plush couches and playing chess on the coffee table between them.  Sitting nearly everywhere with a book in his hands (it looks like Clark’s book collection, including research pertaining to his heritage and understanding who and what he is, has grown significantly).  More tenderly, he remembers finding Clark hiding in here crying for various reasons many times. 

Oliver has become so lost in his reminiscence that he hasn’t realized Clark has started wandering around the loft.  He hasn’t even realized that somewhere during that time, he started crying himself.  Wiping his eyes, Oliver asks, “So are you remembering anything?”

“No,” replies Clark in that same stoic voice.  “What is this place?”

Suppressing the urge to roll his eyes, Oliver answers, “Dad and his friend, Uncle Jonathan Kent, called it your ‘Fortress of Solitude.’  It’s where you spent most of your time.”  A chuckle escapes Oliver’s throat.  “I can remember finding you in here so many times for so many reasons.”  He pauses as Clark rounds on him.  Oliver doesn’t want to feel threatened, but Clark looks a little…hostile. 

“What was that name you said?” he demands quietly.

“Jonathan Kent,” Oliver replies, confused.  “We worked on his farm a lot, you lived with him after our parents died…”

“He tried to prevent me from being reborn,” Clark cuts him off angrily.

Oliver cocks his head.  “He what?  Clark, you’re going to have to enlighten me; what happened three months ago?”

“My name is Kal-El,” Clark corrects him fiercely.

 _Kal-El?_ Oliver repeats mentally.  “What is that, some pseudonym you adopted?  Huh, maybe I should adopt one myself.”  Ol-El?  Spikes-El?  No, those both sound stupid.  Although, Oliver remembers Clark calling him “Spikes” because of his hair’s natural tendency to be spiky. 

“It’s my true name, Oliver Queen,” Clark explains as if speaking to a child disrespecting a superior. 

“Clark—Kal-El—where were you all this time?” asks Oliver, growing desperate. 

“I was in a place that felt like home,” replies Clark…longingly it sounds like. 

Oliver’s losing his nerve.  “ _Clark_!  Bluesy!  Ballet Boy!  Twerp!  Ivory Hands!”  He spews out all the nicknames that he gave Clark and his voice begins to break.  He hopes that Clark would at least scold him for calling him “Ballet Boy” or laughing because of the cleverness of “Ivory Hands” because of his love for the piano, but Clark does none of that.  In fact, he brushes past him and starts descending the stairs to the garage. 

“Clark, _this is your home_!” Oliver screams, chasing after him.  As he reaches him, Clark drops to his knees, covering his ears as if he hears something extremely loud.  Oliver hears nothing. 

Suddenly worried about his little brother, Oliver drops to his knees beside Clark. “Clark, buddy what’s the matter?”

Clark doesn’t answer, but continues to just kneel there, covering his ears.  Eventually, it looks like whatever was bothering his ears stops and Clark rises to his feet, looking like he’s about to go into a battle.  He leaves the garage and Oliver chases after him again. 

“Clark, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you’re my brother!” Oliver shouts.  “ _This is your home!_ ”  He catches Clark and grabs his arm. 

Clark turns around and roughly shakes Oliver’s hand off.  “Clark Queen is dead.”  Then, in a blink of an eye, Oliver watches in both horror and amazement as his brother shoots into the sky, flying away.

Despite everything, as Oliver stares blankly through his tear-stained eyes into the sky, he breathes, “Wow.”

***

“Trixie have been listening to a word I’ve been saying?” asks Lucifer, exasperated.  He glances through the rearview mirror, watching his seventeen-year-old stepdaughter as she follows a safe distance behind him in his—or now her—green Corvette.

“I’ve been hearing you loud and clear, Luci,” comes Trixie’s reply through his headset.  These earlier headsets are so…trashy compared to what he had grown used to, but somehow, upon traveling through dimensions, he landed in the year 2004.  “But you started rambling and I stopped listening.”

Lucifer inhales sharply.  He wants to use his dad’s name in vain, but he would very much rather not… “You spent too much time with Maze growing up!” he finally snaps.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” says Trixie dryly.  A brief silence follows, before Lucifer hears her voice again.  “I wanna go home,” she says more tenderly.  It reminds Lucifer of that silly little girl he met a long time ago in the hallway of an elementary school.  He hated children—or more likely was repulsed by them—for the longest time until he started getting to know Trixie Decker. 

“I want go home too, Beatrice,” he agrees.  He might have been more sarcastic, but he really does wish they could just go home.  “You know why we had to leave.”

“You didn’t have to bring me along,” Trixie reminds him.

“As a matter of fact I did,” Lucifer corrects her.  He made a promise to her mother that he would protect her and he always keeps his promises.  “Now are you going to keep up this bellyaching?  It’s going us nowhere and it’d be quite inconvenient if we have to make the movers stop because we can’t wait to settle something.”

Another long stretch of silence passes and Lucifer worries that before long they’ll run out of minutes for this month.  He wonders if phone companies offer unlimited talk/texting deals in this year.

“Sorry, Luci,” apologizes Trixie.

“Oh come now, let’s not get mushy.”

“You’re the father of my half-sister; you are mushier than I am,” argues Trixie, laughing.

Taking his eyes off the road for a minute, Lucifer gazes at the child sitting in the seat next to him.  Seven years ago, Lucifer and his wife, Chloe Decker welcomed little Esther Mazikeen Morningstar into the world.  So far, the little creature has been growing into a beautiful young girl.  Her mother’s face, his hair, her mother’s eyes, and as devilishly beautiful as he is handsome, Lucifer felt happier than he ever thought possible.  He loves his daughter.  However, Chloe always teased him that beyond little “Emma” as Maze and Trixie had nicknamed, and Trixie herself, he is still repulsed by children. 

He doesn’t deny it. 

“Are you sure that this Smallville, Kansas is going to be safe for us?” asks Trixie, still on the phone. 

“I really don’t know,” Lucifer replies honestly.  “But it is in the middle of nowhere and it’s one of the few places that don’t seem to have any supernatural or celestial presence about.  It’ll be fine for us.”

“Are you talking about the place we’re moving to, Daddy?” asks Emma.

A smile spreads across Lucifer’s face as he glances fondly at his daughter.  “Yes, darling; your sister just needs a vote of confidence.”

“I heard that,” Trixie deadpans.

“You were supposed to,” Lucifer deadpans back.  “It’s the ‘Meteor Capital of the World’; how bad can it be?”

As if on cue, Lucifer sees…a _person_ flying high in the sky…without wings!  For a minute, Lucifer becomes distracted. 

“Daddy, car!” squeals Emma. 

Lucifer’s eyes return to the road and surely enough, he’s about to hit a pickup truck head on.  “Oh, God!” he swears as he swerves. 

“Luci, what happened?” asks Trixie frantically.

“Sorry, Trixie, I…” his eyes narrow.  “I think that Smallville just got a little more interesting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little note to everyone, I’m not going to rewrite the entire season, just parts that I find relevant to the story. Also, I will be adding a few details from later seasons.


	4. Chapter Three

_May 15 th, 1995_

_Meeting Diana Prince was…interesting.  I was mistaken in thinking her an antiques dealer.  She’s actually a curator for the Department of Antiques at the prestigious Louvre Museum.  She was a hard woman to get ahold of.  Meeting her was even more difficult.  When I was finally able to squeeze in a meeting with her, I was given an opportunity to actually take a look around her collection.  Much of Dr. Prince’s collection is strictly Greco-Roman, some of which I never knew existed.  Some I found myself tempted to buy from the museum.  Sad to say, the museum wasn’t in any position to sell any of their relics to an American businessman._

_So I got the chance to meet Dr. Diana Prince.  Beautiful woman, I had to remember I was happily married to an amazing woman and not dither about like some lunatic.  Charming and shrewd, Dr. Prince, or Diana as she insisted I call her, was smart enough to assess that I was not there to discuss anything regarding relics.  She knew that my wife is very prominent with the Star City Museum, but she correctly assumed that I was not there for that._

_Perhaps it was foolish, but I addressed her as Princess Diana of Themyscira, daughter of Hippolyta.  Needless to say, Diana immediately turned hostile.  Before I could do anything, Diana had me bound in some golden lasso.  It was incredibly hot.  Diana described it as the Lasso of Hestia and the heat was part of some mechanism compelling to me tell the truth.  I wasn’t sure whether to trust this woman or not, but I simply told her who I was and, more reluctantly, who my adopted son was._

_Upon hearing about my son, Clark, Diana asked me—or rather forced me—to elaborate.  Came down in a meteor shower, I had known about him based on the theories of a brilliant scientist and friend, Dr. Virgil Swann (who Diana happened to know by reputation) and so far he has shown to be super strong and superfast.  Diana happened to know a little bit about Clark.  It seems that her culture also held some sort of prophecy pertaining to a visitor from another world._

_Diana released me from the lasso and we started talking.  Diana was genuinely curious about Clark and asked me all kinds of questions about him.  What does he look like? (I had a picture of him in my wallet and Diana thought he looked very handsome in that picture.)  Does his physiology differ from that of humans?  (It doesn’t seem to.)  Does he seem to be learning at a quicker or slower pace than the average human?  (He learns at same rate as any human; he even sometimes has a speech impediment.)  So many questions and some of them I’m still trying to answer myself._

_Diana even wanted to meet him.  I didn’t take it completely off the table.  We agreed and understood that the fewer people who knew of Clark’s abilities, let alone his existence, the better.  In fact, Diana confided in me that growing up, her mother, Queen Hippolyta of the Amazons deemed the visitor as a potential threat to humanity and must be dealt with in the event he (or she) came to Earth.  Thankfully, Diana seems a bit less narrow-minded than her mother.  She was willing to give Clark the benefit of the doubt._

_Eventually, it all led to the question of what I needed with Dr. Prince.  I told her of Clark’s immense strength and I had heard that Diana might possess, or at least know the whereabouts, of a bow that could withstand his strength.  Diana knew of such bow, but sadly it was only a myth.  The only trees in existence that could create such bows were on the isle of Lipara, where the goddess Artemis obtained her bow and arrows._

_I didn’t know what to think about that.  Diana Prince is living proof the existence of ancient gods and goddesses.  However, Diana claims that all the myths that are taught are not completely true.  Stories told and retold so many times that many things have become lost in translation—literally.  However, one thing that is very true, according to Diana (and I think she was being sardonic) many of the stories regarding the promiscuity of the gods—especially Zeus—are all very true._

_I could be wrong, but she sounded a little contemptuous, as if it was a shameful topic.  Is she one of Zeus’s bastards?  I didn’t dare ask._

_Diana seemed very onboard with my son.  She said it would take some time, but she would travel to Lipara and find the means to create a bow for Clark.  She even promised to make two—one for Oliver and another, obviously stronger, one for Clark.  I offered to pay her generously, but Diana refused.  All she wanted in return for her efforts was the guarantee that I tell no one, not even Laura.  I don’t like hiding things from my wife, but I agreed._

_I haven’t heard from Diana since, but am compelled to believe that she always keeps her promises.  Besides, she has expressed her desire train my sons upon giving them their bows._

_That should be interesting when the time comes._

 

Oliver didn’t know what to do.  He just saw his brother _fly away_!  He thought that all Clark could do was run faster than light and lift and few fully loaded semi-trucks above his head.  If Clark can _fly_ what else can he do?

After getting a bag of ice out of the refrigerator and pressing it to his head, Oliver called the only person he assumed he could trust—Dr. Virgil Swann.  He remembers from growing up, Dr. Swann was the one person his dad trusted with all of their secrets.  He also hopes that Dr. Swann hasn’t betrayed that trust in the years since. 

The call went to his operator and he wasn’t able to speak to him. 

“What you mean, Dr. Swann can’t speak to me?” Oliver shouted into the phone.  He very well aware of Dr. Swann quadriplegia, but the man has his ways of compensating.  “This is about my brother, Clark Queen!  Is there any possible way that you can bump me up on his list of meetings?”

He fights the urge to _blah-blah-blah_ into the phone as he’s told that they are very sorry, but Dr. Swann won’t be able to meet with him. 

“Well, screw you!” Oliver disconnects and slams the phone down on the counter.  He starts pacing back and forth, fuming.  He has no idea what is going on with his brother, his parents aren’t around to help explain what the hell is going on, the Kents aren’t answering their phone…Oliver is trying very hard not to injure his other hand.  Or even one of his feet for that matter.

He had hoped that Dr. Swann of all people would be willing to help him with his situation, but it seems he was mistaken.  Had Clark fallen to a lower place on Dr. Swann’s list of priorities?  Why isn’t the man jumping at the first opportunity to meet with him?  His brother flew away and the one person still alive who might have at least some answers isn’t willing to bump him up on his list of meetings.

It could be that his quadriplegia is causing him issues, but Oliver figures that somebody would have said something.  

“You have one new voicemail,” the phone says after several minutes.

Rolling his eyes, he might as well listen to it.  He stops pacing and presses the button and waits for who speaks.

“Hey, Oliver, it’s Tess,” says Tess’s voice.  Oliver’s really not in the mood right now.  “I’ve been trying to reach you for days now.  I know you probably don’t want to talk to me, but I’m worried about you.  I’m coming over this Saturday.  I’ll even bring dinner.”

“End of messages,” the phone says.

Today is Friday.  “Oh, crap,” Oliver groans.  The house is a mess.  Empty beer cans, empty pizza boxes (not that he couldn’t cook, just too lazy) and overall in need of a major cleaning.  Plus the caretaker quit soon after his return.  Beyond that, it's hard not placing a memory to every part of it.  Here in the kitchen with granite counter tops, several cupboards, large wood-paneled refrigerator and dishwasher...it's all like he never left...almost.  The island in the middle was where everyone ate most of their meals with its high stools, the shelf suspended from the ceiling above it loaded with pans and mixing bowls, as well as the knife block.  The window above the sink opened up to the west where the setting sun would illuminate the kitchen quite beautifully.  It was also nice because the stove is on the opposite side where whoever was cooking didn't have to squint at the harsh sunlight while cooking.  Maybe it's because the Kents didn't have a dishwasher, but Oliver remembers him and his brother washing their dishes by hand most of the time.  It always made there parents laugh, who each time would remind them that they do have a dishwasher. 

He or Clark would respond saying, "Yeah, you're staring at him."  Their parents knew them well enough that they meant no disrespect or snark by it.  

Oliver is tempted to just dirty up a few dishes and wash them, hoping that he will hear his mom or dad remind him about the dishwasher.  

Just then, he hears the doorbell, pulling him out of memory lane.  Oliver straightens himself up and travels over to the door.  He quickens his pace as the doorbell becomes more incessant.

“Alright, alright I’m coming!” he yells, hoping whoever is at the door hears him.  “Oh, for God’s sake!” he exclaims as he reaches the door.  He opens it to find…Lois Lane at the door.  Oliver immediately straightens himself up.  She looks distractingly attractive in that red tank top and blue jeans.  Her hair is still pulled back in that same ponytail. 

“What happened to you?” asks Lois.

Oliver glances up at the icepack on his head contemptuously.  “I tripped and hit my head.” 

Lois cocks her head.  “Really?  You don’t seem like a clumsy person.”   

 _Thanks._ “Accidents happen,” he says with a shrug. 

“Yeah, is Clark here?” she asks, walking into the house. 

“Sure, don’t even wait for my invitation,” Oliver mutters under his breath.  “Um, Clark’s not home.”

Lois groans as she glances around the foyer.  “Do you know when he’ll be back?”  She seems to have found the kitchen through the dining room area as she walks towards it.

Oliver follows after her.  “No I don’t,” he replies honestly.  “Listen, not to be rude, but this isn’t the best time.  What do you want with my brother?”

“I’m investigating my cousin, Chloe Sullivan’s death and I think Clark might know something,” explains Lois.  Oliver follows her into the kitchen and he has to fight back his embarrassment at the messy state of it.  She doesn’t seem terribly concerned as she helps herself to coffee.  “I can’t believe there’s no Starbucks in this town.”

Oliver considers that.  “I’ve only been back a month, but everyone says that the Talon has better coffee, but it’s closed.”

Lois scoffs.  “I’ll believe that when I see it,” she says as she takes a long sip of coffee.  “So, um, were Clark and Chloe ever an item?”

“I really can’t give a firsthand answer to that, but Martha Kent, a family friend of mine, says they dated—actually the word she used was ‘inseparable’,” Oliver replies. 

“Huh,” grunts Lois.  “He doesn’t seem that charming.”

“I can’t agree or disagree; I’ve missed five years of his life,” Oliver says it casually, but his words feel heavy in his throat and he has to fight back his building emotion.

Lois appears sympathetic.  “Yeah, I heard about you.  Five years stuck on an island?  That’s even worse than Tom Hanks.”

“At least he had a volleyball to talk to,” Oliver says.  “I started talking to centipedes and coconuts.”  He catches himself. 

“What?”

Oliver laughs shortly.  “I haven’t actually spoken to anyone about my time there on that island before.”

Lois smiles softly.  “Well, I’m not big on sharing sob stories either.”

Oliver raises his eyebrows.  He doesn’t know whether to take that as an insult to his pain or as simply someone relating to the inability to open up.

“So, you’ve dealt with Lionel Luthor before, haven’t you?” asks Lois, changing the subject.

“Not recently,” Oliver replies tightly. 

“Any word of advice when it comes to him?” asks Lois hopefully.

“Yeah, you can shove a pinecone up his ass,” replies Oliver before he can stop himself.  Lois frowns and he starts to feel bad for her.  He wants to know what happened to Chloe too, but… “But seriously, you don’t want to get caught in his web, much less infuriate.”

Lois nods briefly.  “I just want justice for my cousin and I don’t like the idea of Lionel Luthor walking free.  He won’t even see me.”

“Not that I’m not unsympathetic, but I’d stay away from him,” Oliver advises.  “But you seem like a girl who doesn’t listen when she’s made up her mind.”

A smile spreads across Lois’ face.  “Perceptive.”

“So, at least let me help you,” suggests Oliver. 

Lois rolls her eyes.  “Okay.” 

The doorbell rings again. 

“Excuse me,” says Oliver. 

Lois waves her hand and Oliver goes to the door again _.  What’s with all the visitors today?_ He opens the door and it takes him a moment to recognize who it is.  Auburn hair, brown eyes, professional-looking…

“Ms. Crosby?” Oliver asks.

A tightlipped smile spreads across Bridgette Crosby’s face.  “Oliver Queen, I guess your time away hasn’t done much to your memory.”

Oliver offers a polite smile.  “What can I do for you?”

“May we talk?” asks Ms. Crosby.  “It’s about your brother.”

Oliver straightens up.  “Excuse for a minute; I have another visitor.”

“Take your time,” Ms. Crosby says understandingly.

Oliver heads back to the kitchen and thankfully still sees Lois there.  He smiles apologetically.  “I’m sorry, Lois, but could you give me a few minutes?  This is important.”

Lois rolls her eyes.  “I’m not going anywhere.”  At least she seems to trust that he will help.

Oliver heads back to the front door where Ms. Crosby waits.  “Okay, how about we talk in the loft?”

***

“‘Lucifer Morningstar,’” reads the grey-haired African-American gentleman, Principal Terrence Reynolds reads.  “That’s your real name?”

“Yes,” replies Lucifer with a smile.  He’s used to this, but this Principal Reynolds seems like a very no-nonsense kind of man.  A quality shared with his late wife, Chloe.

“And before you were a guidance counselor, you were a nightclub owner?”

“Correct,” confirms Lucifer.  “Not that I didn’t enjoy the nightlife business.  Eventually I simply desired a change of venue,” as well as being inspired by his friend and therapist, Dr. Linda Martin.

“And you were a police consultant for the LAPD?” continues Principal Reynolds.

“Yes; it’s also where I met my wife.”

“And where is your wife?”

Lucifer inhales sharply.  “She passed away about five years ago.”

Principal Reynolds looks up from his résumé for the first time.  “I’m so sorry.”

A mirthless chuckle escapes Lucifer’s throat.  “Needless sympathy for a man you barely know.”

Principal Reynolds ignores him.  “And your stepdaughter is enrolling here?”

“Yes,” says Lucifer tightly.  He’s growing impatient.  He dropped the girls and the movers off at their new home so that he could make it to this interview.  What he didn’t realize is how long this interview process would be.  He was even generous enough to wear a tie with his suit. 

“Okay, why do you think you deserve this job?” asks Principal Reynolds. 

 _Oh, so it’s come to_ that _part of the conversation has it?_ “I don’t know; what is it _you_ desire out of a teacher or guidance counselor?” asks Lucifer, locking the principal in his gaze.

Principal Reynolds inhales sharply as he becomes locked in Lucifer’s persuasive powers.  “I want my staff to show these children that we are their superiors,” he replies submissively. 

“Yes, what else?” urges Lucifer leaning forward so that he’s almost touching the desk. 

“I want them to reach out to the students when necessary, but I don’t want them to be friends with them,” continues the principal.

“And what else do you desire?”

“I…I…I want really nice cup of coffee from the Talon,” says the principal.   

Lucifer gapes.  “What?”

“It’s the best coffeehouse in town and it’s closed all summer!” whine the principal.

Lucifer considers that.  Then an idea hits him.  “I’ll tell you what, Principal Reynolds, you just give me this job, and I’ll personally reopen the Talon.”  He finishes his offer with a smile.

Principal Reynolds’ eyes glisten.  “You’d do that?”

“Absolutely,” promises Lucifer with one of his devilish grins.  A grin he has seldom used since his wife passed. 

Principal Reynolds stands up and Lucifer follows suit.  He watches as the principal comes around and stands in front of him.  “Welcome to Smallville High, Mr. Morningstar,” he welcomes, offering his hand.

Lucifer grasps and shakes it.  “The pleasure is all mine.”  And hopefully, it will bring him closer to understanding what he and Trixie saw in the sky.


	5. Chapter Four

_November 1 st, 1996_

_Word travels fast among the social elite even when efforts to keep said word from spreading are taken.  Perhaps in this case, it could simply be because it involves Lex Luthor and though I do not consider myself friends with the Luthors—or mostly just Lionel—I still seem to hear about what goes on with them._

_Lex Luthor attends the prestigious boarding school, Excelsior, and it’s no hard to figure out that he’s not very popular.  It doesn’t bring me joy; I actually feel bad for the kid.  Vastly intelligent for his age, but it whether it’s because of his lack of hair or simply having trouble fitting into the larger crowd, I’ve never known the boy to have a considerable amount of friends._

_In fact, what happened a few days ago, according to my sources, could be one of the reasons why Lex has little to no friends.  I don’t know all the details but apparently it all involved some altercation between Lex, some boys from very prominent families, Alden and Geoffrey, and a scholarship student named Duncan Allenmeyer.  From what I could gather, Lex was desperate to be respected, to be a part of the larger crowd and somehow, in his twisted, immature sense, that involved beating poor Duncan Allenmeyer half to death.  If that wasn’t enough, soon after Duncan was hit by a car._

_Now Lionel seems to be doing his best to cover up the whole debacle._

_I keep thinking that that could have been one of my boys.  Excelsior is an excellent school, but one disadvantage sending children to boarding school is you lose that much time not only seeing your children, but also offering them much-needed nurturing that can only come from a parent._

_Boys like Lex Luthor, with or without being nurtured by his father (which is very poor to begin with based on my observations) seem to have deeply rooted anger issues.  Thanks to said anger issues, he has lost what might have been his only friend and his peers are afraid of him._

_The last time either one of my sons misbehaved was a few months ago when Oliver punched a kid for humiliating Clark.  Laura and I can’t help feeling sorry for Clark.  It’s not like he lets himself be humiliated—but he knows he’s not a normal child so he really has to restrain himself.  He’s already strong enough; he could knock someone out just by flicking them in the head.  I don’t want to find out what could happen if he loses his temper and punches them in the face.  Oliver was defending his brother, so Laura and I weren’t too harsh punishing him, only grounding him for a week and having him work harder on the Kent farm._

_On a more positive note, two good things have happened this week.  First, Diana Prince personally delivered what she promised to my office in Metropolis.  I wanted to pay her for her efforts, perhaps even introduce her to my sons, but she refused the payment and felt that it wasn’t the right time to meet my sons.  However, she promised that she would stay in touch and would assured that I would know when the time was right for me to introduce her to my sons._

_As excited as I was to give the boys their new bows, or even tell Laura about them, I forced myself to wait for Christmas.  I have no doubt the boys will be ecstatic._

_Onto the second good thing, Clark has made a new friend.  About a week or two ago, I personally hired a promising banker by the name of Gabe Sullivan who had relocated to Smallville.  Apparently, he was fired from LuthorCorp unjustly and that, along with a family tragedy, he and his daughter needed a change of scenery._

_From what I could gather, Lionel Luthor personally went to great lengths to blacklist him, but I was willing to offer him a chance.  I met Gabe in a bar of all places and in a rare moment of being a Good Samaritan, I introduced myself and offered him a job.  My kindness did not come without a catch though.  First, he needed to sober up and then I needed him to formally meet me for an interview looking respectable.  It was a one-time offer and it seems that I pulled the man out of a downward spiral._

_He kept up his end of the bargain and I hired him.  I don’t know nor do I care what happened between him and LuthorCorp, but still I needed him to show me I didn’t make a mistake hiring him.  So far, he hasn’t shown me any reason to regret my decision._

_I gave him the time he needed to settle into his new home in Smallville.  As chance would have it, Clark was assigned at school to show his daughter, Chloe around.  Eventually his tour of Smallville led them to our house.  Clark won’t tell me what exactly happened, but he looked quite flushed when he told me that Chloe offered to be friends with him._

_So far, Chloe seems to be the only person besides Laura, Oliver, the Kents and myself who can get Clark to get out of his little bubble.  I’m proud that he’s becoming fast friends with Chloe Sullivan._

_On a funnier note, Laura confided in me that Chloe might actually have a crush on Clark.  I didn’t see it, but Laura says that’s okay.  I’m a guy.  If she’s right, based on my observations of Chloe so far, I wouldn’t mind if they got together.  Chloe seems like a respectable girl.  She’s insatiably curious to a fault and as naïve as any young girl, but respectable and she seems to genuinely care about her new friend._

_I just hope that her curiosity doesn’t ruin their friendship somewhere along the line._

Meeting Bridgette Crosby was illuminating for Oliver.  He guessed that his exasperated phone call paid off, even if he didn’t get to speak to Dr. Swann directly.  It is a bit justifiable all things considered.  Oliver doesn’t remember Dr. Swann leaving his penthouse very much.  He didn’t know if it was solely because of his paralyzed state or if it was the fact that, according to his dad, Dr. Swann was always a bit of a recluse even before his paralysis. 

Ms. Crosby used some name—Calelle, or Cal El, or Kal-El?—when addressing Clark.  She was going to have to enlighten Oliver a bit and he told her as much.  Apparently it’s Clark’s birth name.  She wouldn’t explain much beyond that, other than the scientific evidence provided by Dr. Swann that Oliver already knew about from growing up.  He made a mental note to ask Clark about all of it. 

Either way, Oliver found himself feeling a bit hostile about this woman.  Growing up, he was under the impression that only Dr. Swann knew about Clark’s true heritage.  Ms. Crosby went on to explain some nonsense about Clark’s destiny that had been set in motion long before he came into the Queens’ lives. Nonsense that sound eerily similar to some of the things his father told him a couple of months before he shipwrecked on that island. 

Ms. Crosby knew nothing about Clark and Oliver told her as much.  She agreed with him; she didn’t know anything about Clark.  She then got a little sentimental; mentioning that she knew what it was like to care about someone whose destiny was greater than her own.  Did she have an affair with Dr. Swann once upon a time?

Oliver was under the impression, though mostly based on the word of his old friend, Patricia Swann, that Virgil Swann had only ever been with one woman—his wife.  He guessed that some guys aren’t capable of only having eyes for their wives or husbands. 

The Kents are monogamous.  His parents, Robert and Laura were monogamous—or at least Oliver hopes that they were monogamous. 

Eventually, Ms. Crosby revealed what she had in the briefcase.  Black and shiny, it almost seemed like a cross between a gemstone and a lump of coal.  She described it as black kryptonite.  Kryptonite?  He asked if that was the word used for the green meteor rocks.  She told him yes.  So there are more than just the green ones?  So much Oliver had missed and it’s like with each passing day, he feels more ignorant. 

Not that he wasn’t thankful for the black kryptonite, which she explained that it was _theoretically_ supposed to split Clark in half—as in from his Kryptonian side and his the side Oliver thought he knew—but where was he supposed to find Clark?  Ms. Crosby told him that his best bet is the Kawatche Caves.  She was going to have to be a bit more specific; he had never heard of the Kawatche Caves.

In parting, she gave him a list of directions.  Wasting no time, Oliver went back into the house to tell Lois that he was going to be a few minutes, but she was nowhere to be found.  Headstrong, he liked it…and it annoyed him.  No matter, he just hopes she takes care of herself.

Following the directions Ms. Crosby provided, Oliver drove to these Kawatche Caves.  The way he was driving, he was grateful he didn’t get pulled over for a ticket. 

The directions led him to an interesting place.  He almost missed it.  Grabbing a flashlight, he got out of the car, Oliver walked around until he found the entrance to the caves.  It seemed like a sizable network, but the one he found seemed more like a gorge than a cave.  Oliver walked into caves.

Right now as he walks languorously through the narrow path, Oliver takes a moment to observe the cave.  Cave drawings that seem to tell a story of visitors and even a strange two-headed creature, as well as symbols that don’t resemble any language he have ever seen, this place seems a lot more significant than just a tourist attraction.  Soon, the walls of the caves rise so high that Oliver feels pathetically small.  Here and there, pathways lead off the main path, and the only things that Oliver can see with the help of his flashlight are magnificent stalactites and stalagmites.  Places like this it can become easy to develop a fear of the dark.

At the same time, it seems to offer a nice amount of solitude.  Knowing Clark from growing up, he wouldn’t be surprised if he found out that Clark had spent a significant amount of time here. 

Suddenly, as Oliver travels through the caves, something…weird happens.  One of the cave walls, a cave drawing depicting a bunch of circles like a target with rows and rows of the strange symbols he had been seeing begins to glow.  The glowing intensified and Oliver stands frozen in awe as the circles begin to turn in opposite directions like some sort of safe.  The “safe” part rings quite true as the symbols eventually form a row of red, blue, and yellow symbols. 

“That’s quite the combination lock,” Oliver marvels, his eyes wide.  The circle splits down the middle and they part, revealing a doorway. Oliver shields his eyes against the light.  Soon, the figure of his brother emerges. 

Clark stops dead in his tracks.  He glares at Oliver.  “You shouldn’t have come here, Oliver Queen.”

“Bite me, Bluesy,” Oliver responds and, not knowing what else to do, he pressed the lump of black kryptonite to Clark’s chest.  “I don’t what the hell is going on with you buddy, but I want my brother back!”

The effect is immediate.  Clark started vibrating and thrashing faster than what should be considered normal and he literally begins to split.  Oliver begins to see two versions of his brother.

“Oliver!” screams Clark.

Oliver has no idea what’s going on, but he knows that that’s his brother talking.  Amidst the thrashing, the two entities of shirtless Clarks completely separate and one of them—the one with a wedge-shaped scar on his chest with what looks like an _8_ locks the other in a stranglehold.

“Humanity has made you weak,” sneers the scarred Clark. 

The one being strangled locks eyes with Oliver.  Not knowing what else to do, Oliver hands him the black kryptonite.  He presses it to scarred-Clark’s chest and the thrashing and the light begins to pulse again.  Whatever is happening, it sends a shockwave and Oliver is thrown backward, hitting the cave wall hard. 

When Oliver regains his senses, he sees only one shirtless Clark sprawled on the ground.  Worried about his little brother, Oliver rushes over to him and kneels beside him.

“Hey, buddy,” he says tenderly. 

Clark opens his eyes and soon they widen to the point that they look ready to burst out of his skull.

“Oliver?” he asks, as if speaking his name for the first time in five years. 

Oliver smiles as he helps Clark to his feet.  He lets Clark glance him over.  For the first time in a month, he doesn’t feel uncomfortable being examined; he only feels himself choking up. 

“We thought you were dead,” Clark squeaks.

“I thought I was too for a while, buddy,” Oliver agrees, feeling tears well up.  “Mom…Dad?”

Tears roll down Clark’s cheeks.  “I was on that plane with them, Ollie,” he explains.  “It all happened so fast…the plane exploded…I…I couldn’t save them.  Then it was all covered up making it look like I was never on the plane to begin with.  Mom and Dad’s bodies—or what was left of them still burned into my memory…” 

Oliver shuts him up by pulling him into a hug.  They are the same height, but Clark is still very much the little brother he left behind five years ago.  “I’m here now, Clark,” he reminds him, tears streaming down his face.  “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

The two brothers stay locked in that embrace for a long time.  However, Oliver is sure that Clark also feels that it does little to make up for all the lost time.  Among other things, he wishes he was there to help him grieve for their parents.  He doesn’t know how he’s going to tell Clark that Chloe is gone too, assuming he doesn’t already know. 

Eventually, they break apart. 

“Let’s go home, Spikes,” suggests Clark. 

Oliver isn’t sure if he misses that nickname.  He worries he might grow tired of it, but will that really stop Clark from calling him that, any more than he will stop calling Clark Bluesy?  It’s probably not going to happen.

“Yeah, and then you’re going to have to paint me a picture of the last five years,” says Oliver.

A bright smile spreads across Clark’s face.  “Well sit back and enjoy the show, there might even be popcorn.”

They both laugh.  Lots of catching up to do, but either way, Oliver feels happier than he has in five years. 


	6. Chapter Five

_December 25 th, 1996_

_As I ~~expected~~ no _hoped _, my boys were only too excited for their new bows.  They received other presents, of course.  Both boys had stockings loaded with chocolates and candy (courtesy of Martha Kent) but that’s about where the similarities in their gifts end.  A few days ago, as an early Christmas present for her two new friends, Gabe’s daughter, Chloe—maybe at this point, I should refer to her as Chloe?  Ms. Sullivan?—bought Clark and Oliver red and green jackets respectively._

_If I had any thought that the two of them would be…disgusted about having jackets that were well below their usual price range, I was woefully incorrect.  Clark’s jacket, just a simple cotton jacket and Oliver’s jacket, a green faux leather jacket…at least until it started getting too cold—at least for Oliver, as cold seems to not affect Clark—I haven’t seen the boys wear any other jackets._

_The three of them are extremely close and I couldn’t be prouder._

_As for presents, Oliver got a Nintendo 64, a videogame console that was released a few months ago (I almost literally had to tear both boys away from it), some_ Star Wars _themed Lego sets, as well as some archery sets.  Clark got a few fantasy novels, some books on astronomy (I think it’s possible that the mystery of his origins fuels his love for astronomy) and some videogames to go with his brother’s Nintendo 64 that he could call his own._

 _Now I’m starting to worry that the boys will start fighting over playtime on that silly device.  I certainly had no videogames to play with when I was their age.  I was in my late twenties when_ Space Invaders _came out.  Looking back fondly, I remember Laura dragging me out to the arcades fifteen years ago.  Sometimes, I think the only thing that kept her away from the PacMan machine was being pregnant with Oliver.  After that, as we both became parents, she moved onto other things._

_When the boys unwrapped the narrow, beautifully crafted boxes containing their bows, they grew very quiet.  Even Laura, who would later scold me for not telling her anything about this, was clearly excited to see what were in the boxes.  Oliver and Clark counted on three and then they opened their boxes at the same time.  It tears me up thinking about how excited they were to receive their new bows.  I have no idea what kind of wood they were, no idea what the symbols on them meant, but I have never seen them happier.  Clark was so excited we had actually had to calm him down a bit, lest he accidentally lose control of himself and break something._

_I was very worried about Clark’s bow.  I feel I was justifiably concerned that he would break his bow under his seemingly endless strength.  Clark tried pulling the drawstring on his bow.  He strained!  He tried snapping it in half.  It DID NOT BREAK!  He’s actually going to have to grow into his bow’s draw weight._

_Diana Prince told me she would find a bow that wouldn’t break under Clark’s strength and she delivered._

_Clark is going to have to really work at his bow.  It might take him some time, but I’m sure eventually he and Oliver will be on the same level.  Clark might actually have a greater advantage considering his bow’s heavier draw weight.  I’m interested to see what kind of velocity his arrows would have._

_After we got through with our Christmas gifts, we got dressed and headed over to the Kents.  Jonathan and Martha were very generous to offer to make us dinner._

_Sometimes I think that they are lonely.  Try as hard as they might to not show it, they clearly wish they had children.  In fact, simply as a favor for a friend, a few months back I tried to set them up an appointment with an adoption agency.  People that would help them find a child or two in need of parents and a home beyond the orphanage._

_It did not blow over well.  Jonathan and I had a huge fight—or rather him just screaming at me—and we did not speak for weeks.  The boys continued to go over for dinner and work, but it was a long time before Jonathan accepted any of my olive branches.  Finally, my friend started speaking to me again when Martha came down seriously ill and they were not able to afford their medical expenses.  Jonathan is an extremely stubborn individual, but he knows me well enough that he can ask for my help without there being a catch later on._

_I helped with their medical expenses and now it’s like nothing bad happened between us._

_Maybe I’m foolishly optimistic, but either way, one of these days, Jonathan and Martha will be blessed with a child._

Oliver sits wide-eyed at the kitchen island as Clark gives him a lengthy picture of things that have happened in the last five years.  To start things off, he showed Oliver all the powers that he’d gained.  Flight, x-ray vision, heat vision, super-hearing…all in that order.  Clark said the flight came about when he fell off of Reever Dam and went on to explain the rather hilarious ways he tried to perfect the talent. Then he demonstrated the X-ray vision—to Oliver’s embarrassment—by seeing right through his shirt.  As Oliver expected, his little brother was horrified by the state of his body. 

He promised to share how he got some of his scars, but after Clark was done telling him about him.

Moving on from the x-ray vision, Clark explained how he got each of his powers.  The x-ray vision came about during a robbery while Clark was visiting a jewelry store with their mother.  He even admitted to _accidentally_ peeking in on the girls’ locker room.  It took him a short while to understand how to work it, but eventually he realized that he could see through pretty much everything but lead. 

The heat vision, that was a little more interesting.  There was a massive heat wave at the beginning of Clark’s sophomore year and, to Oliver’s amusement, Clark set the classroom on fire during sex-ed.  It must have been one hell of an attractive teacher if she was enough to make Clark have a premature—and fiery—orgasm.  Turns out that Ms. “Hot-for-Teacher” was Lex Luthor’s first marriage.  Very short and it came about because the woman—Desiree Atkins was her name—was a “meteor freak.” 

A term coined by Chloe, Clark explained that meteor freaks are basically people who have weird abilities do to some sort of exposure to kryptonite.  Desiree Atkins, for example, literally gave of some sort of pheromone, putting men in a hormonal haze because she just happened to be having an orgasm of her own when the meteor shower struck. 

As a result, she became a femme fatale of sorts, using her ability to marry men, have them killed by other men, and then reap the benefits.  She tried to do that to Lex.  First, she tried to do it to Clark—that didn’t work—then Jonathan Kent almost blasted Lex with his shotgun. 

Savagely, Oliver thought that would have been very entertaining to see. 

Basically, Clark’s heat vision is almost directly connected to his hormones.

Finally, there’s the superhearing and Clark explained that that came about during a weird time when he went blind.  His heat vision backfired directly into his eyes when it bounced off a diamond. 

Beyond that, it seems Clark has had himself a bit of an adventure so far during high school.  His biological dad, Jor-El sounds like an ass.  Much of the time, Lana Lang pined after him, even ruining her own relationship with some jerk named Whitney Fordman because of it.  Chloe had a crush on him too, but she was more subtle—or at least she seemed more subtle to Clark. 

Oliver was curious about his relationship with her.  Martha told him in the medical center that Clark and Chloe were involved. 

“She was my girlfriend,” Clark explains sheepishly as he makes Oliver an omelet.  Oliver tried to deny the food, but Clark wouldn’t have it.  To be honest, even if Oliver had the same teacher—Martha Kent—in the art of cooking, he hadn’t had a decent meal in a while.  Plus, Clark has always been a better cook than him.  Oliver preferred to bake. 

“Aunt Martha said you two were _inseparable_ ,” Oliver presses, teasingly.

“She’s exaggerating,” Clark argues.

“Is she?” Oliver didn’t buy it.  “So you two didn’t call each other every day, hold hands everywhere you went, make out in empty classrooms…?”

“Shut up!” shouts Clark, slamming his fists down on the counter.

Oliver beams.  “So you two did make out in empty classrooms?”

“And in the middle of a coffeehouse,” mutters Clark.

“Oh, when did my little brother get so naughty?” Oliver laments.  “How long did your relationship last?”

“Most of sophomore year and half of junior year,” replies Clark.

So before and after their parents died.  “What happened?”

Clark turns towards him.  “Look, Ollie, I know you want me to bring you up to speed with everything, but can we save that for another conversation?”

Oliver smiles understandingly.  “No problem.”  He would also like to know what happened three months ago.  What happened that led to Clark disappearing all summer, only to return apparently brainwashed?

“I heard the voicemail on the phone,” teases Clark, changing the subject.  “Who’s Tess?”

Now Oliver is the one blushing.  “Just a woman I know.”

“Sounded pretty serious,” presses Clark.  “And she’s coming over tomorrow?”  Clark looks around.  “The house looks like a tornado blew over.” 

Oliver moans.  “I’ll never get it cleaned up in time.”

Clark groans.  “And I thought _I_ was the whiny one.”

Before Oliver can say anything, Clark bursts into super-speed.  He rolls his eyes as he sees blurs of movement.  It’s like watching a videotape being fast forwarded as he watches dirty dishes get washed and put away, floor swept clean, counters wiped until they shone with a twinkle, and Oliver could only assume he was doing the same thing to the rest of the house.  He fondly remembers talking Clark into do his chores for him, bribing him with snacks, cash, and all manner of items.       

It was difficult to hide that from their parents.  They somehow had their way of knowing if it was Clark who did the chores.  Especially if it was very last minute, like after a party Oliver threw, and he needed the place cleaned up before their parents got home.  Still, Oliver tried and succeeded…sometimes.  At least, as he grew older, he always made sure that he did something for Clark in return. 

Oliver barely counts ninety seconds on his watch before Clark finishes up.  He offers him a brief, sardonic applause. 

“I wanted to tell you, Clark,” he begins, tenderly and carefully.  “I’m—I’m so sorry about Chloe.”

Clark frowns. 

“The fact that she died,” Oliver clarifies, though he’s not sure why he needed to.  

Clark sighs and turns off the burner on the stove, before sitting down.  “Ollie, I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but Chloe…she isn’t dead.”

Oliver’s eyes widen.  “What, what’re you talking about?”

“When we managed to get Lionel Luthor into prison, Lex suspected that Lionel would try to have her killed,” explains Clark.  “Turns out he was right when they found a bomb with a timer in her safe house.  With the help of witness protection, Chloe and Gabe have been in hiding ever since.  I have no idea where exactly, but I only know because Chloe managed to send me a message saying she was still alive.  I haven’t heard from her since.”

Oliver blinks several times.  “Wow, I knew Lionel Luthor was many things, but I never thought he’d be capable of murder, or at least arranging murder.”

Clark nods his agreement.  “It might be far-fetched and I have no proof, but I think he might also be involved in Mom and Dad’s deaths.  You should have seen his face when I survived that plane crash.”

“Was he disappointed?” asks Oliver with savage delight.

“Quite the contrary,” replies Clark.  “He seemed…impressed.”  Clark leans in a little.  “Oliver, I think Lionel Luthor might be aware of my abilities.”

Oliver blinks slowly.  He feels rage coursing through him.  Rage for his parents’ deaths.  Rage over the possibility of Clark being taken advantage of.  “Well, let’s be glad he’s behind bars.”

“He won’t stay behind bars if Chloe isn’t safe enough to come out of hiding and testify at his next hearing,” Clark mutters.

“Wait.  What?”

Clark and Oliver jump as they turn and see none other than Lois Lane.  Tall and annoyingly attractive as ever, she stands there with her hands on her hips and Oliver feels small. 

“Is this a habit of yours?” asks Clark.  “Walking into people’s homes without permission?”

When did Clark become so authoritative?

Lois gives Clark a sideways glance.  “Do you remember me?”

“Loud, obnoxious, Nicorette addiction, Chloe’s cousin,” Clark lists off. 

Lois nods as she comes around.  “Ooh, I’m starving.”  Before Clark or Oliver can stop her, she grabs a plate and takes the omelet.  Clark grumbles; Oliver fights back a smile. 

“And while I was off wasting time talking to Lionel Luthor, you just happened to know that _my cousin is alive_ all this time?” demands Lois. 

“The fewer people who knew the better,” explains Clark flatly.

Before anyone can react, Lois sets down the plate and takes a powerful swing at Clark’s face. 

“Bad move, Lois Lane,” Oliver mutters. 

The effect is immediate.  “OW!” screams Lois.  “Good God, what are you made of—steel?”  She cradles her injured fist, whimpering and rigid as she bites back the pain. 

“No,” replies Clark dryly.  “I’m just the guy who is going to take you to get that hand looked at.”

Oliver can’t help himself anymore.  Laughter rumbles out of his chest and soon Lois and Clark are staring at him blankly.  It only fuels his laughter. 

He is happy to be home. 

***

Lana walks through the Luthor Mansion until she finds the study, which sometimes seemed like the only room in the whole house that Lex, or anybody spent their time in.  The room almost feels like something out of a 1940's film.  Polished wood paneling the walls and the floor, the grand piano in the corner, the bookshelves loaded with several leather-bound volumes, the fireplace.  Even Lex looks like something out of the forties as Lana can't remember seeing him dressed in anything less fancy than his assortment of dress shirts, pants and shoes.  At least, other than times she had walked in on him exercising--which he also tends to do in this room.  Add a bathroom, a bed, and a kitchenette to go with the cooler, this room could very well be a studio apartment. 

If Lana could afford it, she definitely wouldn't mind having a studio apartment with some semblance to Lex's study.    

She almost laughs.  Tall with his head shining against the sunlight, she always thought he seemed quite handsome for a bald guy.  He holds a large wineglass.  She wonders if he’s brooding judging by the size of the serving. 

 _A man without a thatch of hair on his head?  You are wasting your time._   There’s that voice again.  Ever since she woke up with that strange tattoo, or imprint whatever it was, on her back she’s been hearing this voice in her head.  A breathy, sinister more…refined version of her voice acting like a ceaseless presence. 

Probably at the sound of her approach, Lex turns around and they lock eyes.  They exchange smiles.  From what she can tell, it looks like seeing her just brightened what might have been an otherwise stressful day. 

He regards her as she walks towards him. 

“You look great,” he says.

 _Is that his excuse of a compliment?  And this man carries himself like a gentleman?  Pathetic._ “Thank you,” she says with a giggle.  They close the distance together and wrap their arms around each other in an almost sibling-like embrace.  Sometimes he feels like the older brother she never had. 

When they break apart, Lex says,

“So from your message, I couldn’t tell if this is a stopover or if you’re back for good.”

 _Don’t go back to Paris._   Lana nods.  “For a while; I guess Paris just wasn’t for me.”  Or so the voice keeps telling her.

Lex smacks his lips.  “Yeah, museums…late-night jazz clubs,” he lists off as he goes to sit down on one of the couches, “walks along the seine.  I can see how that can all get boring.”

 _When did the great Paris become a place for foreigners to congregate and gawk? Disgraceful, disrespectful, ignorant…_   Lana fights back the voice.  She was really enjoying Paris until that incident with that tomb.  “Let’s just say that I felt as though something was calling me home,” a perfectly honest answer.

Lex shrugs.  “A little cryptic, but I’ll take it.  You picked a great day for homecoming.”

Lana frowns. 

“You know Clark just resurfaced, too,” Lex explains.  “Interesting timing.” 

 _Who is this Clark—another cretin of a man like this Lex?_ Lana blushes.  She’s been trying to get over her crush for Clark for months.  “Funny, I don’t remember asking about Clark.”

Lex says nothing.

She thinks it’s time to move onto the real reason why she came by.  “Actually, I came by because people working on the Talon.  Did you sell it?”

Lex turns away, looking like he’s trying to hide his embarrassment.  “I wasn’t planning on it, but the man who wanted it was very…persuasive.  Why were you hoping to partner up again?”

Lana smiles, although she has trouble hiding her disappointment.  “Actually, I was hoping to rent the apartment.”

Lex sighs.  “If I still owned the Talon, I’d be negotiating rent costs with you right about now, but you’ll have to talk to the man who owns it now.”

“Who owns it now?” asks Lana, genuinely curious. 

“I don’t know if it’s his real name, but he calls himself Lucifer Morningstar.”

 _Lucifer Morningstar?_ the voice in her head repeats.  _That’s the name of the devil himself.  You must meet this man._   “I guess I’ll go meet with him then.”

“He gave me his number; I can put in a good word for you,” offers Lex.

“I’d appreciate it.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I borrowed from Superman: the Animated Series in regards to Lana being the one who had a crush on Clark. Also, it might not have happened--or at least we didn't see it happen--in the show, but I just think that the idea of Isobel Theroux being a constant presence in Lana's mind is really intriguing. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed! 
> 
> I'll make sure to post a couple more before the weekend's out.


	7. Chapter Six

_April 4 th, 1997_

_Clark has finally gotten a handle on his bow!  I wish I could say that it had something to do with weightlifting, or all the strenuous work that he and Oliver do at the Kent Farm, but it’s a little different than that.  I keep in touch with Virgil Swann quite frequently, although we rarely discuss Clark._

_I’ll bring up Clark as much as any father would when talking to a friend, but out of respect, Virgil doesn’t ask much about Clark’s more…peculiar developments.  Usually, he waits for me to come to him with questions about Clark and he does his best to answer them.  I can count on one hand how many times that Virgil has actually met Clark, although I can gratefully say that Lionel Luthor has met him even less._

_Lionel has mocked me in the past for it, but usually, if I meet with him, it’s at one of his residences.  If meeting me at my house here in Smallville is unavoidable, I send the boys over to the Jonathan and Martha’s, or more recently, Oliver takes Clark to the movies.  Lord knows that they have both earned enough pocket money from working at the Kent farm to indulge in a little fun once in a while.  They have both long since stopped asking me why I make them work for the Kents.  While it is true that Jonathan and Martha could use the extra sets of hands, I kept telling them that it builds character._

_I may have set college funds aside for the both of them, but I like my sons knowing that things like money comes with hard work.  I certainly didn’t end up having more money than I could ever hope to spend by sitting around and doing nothing._

_As for Clark’s abilities, especially his strength, I see him growing stronger all the time.  He has gotten better at finding less destructive ways of letting go some of his stress.  I remember him putting holes in the wall when he would have tantrums.  He even broke my arm once or twice during one of them.  Even if the boy was only four or five at the time, he was deeply remorseful.  I think that seeing what his strength can do to the people he loves at such a young age has helped him learn to control his temper._

_However, sometimes like any child he bottles up his emotions too much.  Right now, it seems like the only friends that he has outside of his brother are Chloe Sullivan and Pete Ross.  Chloe and Pete may not be aware of Clark’s secrets, but it seems they can tell he’s lonely.  Laura and I do our best to show him that we love him and I know he knows that, we can’t fully understand everything going on with him.  We never had extraordinary abilities that we had to hide._

_The fact that Clark is starting to get a grip with his bow only adds to those extraordinary abilities.  Oliver, who has had quite a bit of a head start on archery than his brother has, has been helping him quite a bit.  Sometimes it does seem like Oliver feels a bit inferior to his brother.  Who can blame him?  Oliver can’t lift a tractor, shove fence posts into the ground with his bare hands, or_ run _to pick up Thai take out from Metropolis and be back in all of five minutes.  I pulled Oliver aside one day and I told him that Clark feels inferior to him._

_Oliver was not expecting to hear that.  Oliver doesn’t have any extraordinary abilities to hide.  He can show who he is and not have people afraid of him or heaven forbid, have people take him away from me and turn him into a lab rat._

_Now Clark can use his bow and, even if he isn’t terribly stronger than he already is yet, I clocked one of his arrows at nine hundred feet per second.  The arrow tore right through the target, then a tree or two, before comes to a stop several hundred feet away.  If he’s only growing stronger as he grows older, I’ll bet that one of his arrows could shoot down an SR-71!  If I’m going to be letting him improve his archery skills, I’m going to have to find something that will withstand the velocity of his bow.  I’m sure that he can also learn to control the velocity of his arrows._

_He’s able to control his strength to the point that he can play the piano without destroying the keys.  He can dance without losing any grace due to bursts of energy.  Actually that might be a bit different, but it is an example of self-control._

_I’m not sure why I was asking Oliver this, but I pulled him aside and I made him promise me something._

_I needed him to promise me that no matter what, he would always protect his brother.  I am not sure who I scared more—him or myself.  Even so, Oliver looked me in the eye and swore that he would protect Clark._

 

“How’s your hand?” asks Clark, not unkindly.  He didn’t see the punch coming and the guilt he feels at her injuring her hand is still very fresh on his mind.  After rushing her to the emergency room, they just said that there would be some swelling—for which they wrapped it up and gave her an icepack—but nothing was broken.  When asked what happened to her hand, Lois explained,

“I got a little rough with a moron.”

The nurse thankfully just dismissed her as a stupid girl.  Clark would agree with that sentiment, even if he can’t expect her to understand everything about him. 

“I’ve had worse injuries,” replies Lois, tightly.  “You’re lucky those cheekbones of yours didn’t break anything.”

 _What would have happened if they did?_ Clark thinks to himself.  It’s not the first time that somebody punched him and ended up hurting themselves instead.  “What then?” he asks wryly.  “Would you have added a bruised foot, or a nasty headache?”

“Shut up, Smallville,” Lois mutters after a while.  “Just get us to ‘Nellie Bly’s’ safe house.”  While they were at the emergency room, Clark, even though he knew he shouldn’t have, explained what exactly happened with Chloe.  From faking her death with the house explosion and then hiding her in a house in Grandville under a different name, Clark just feels that she could have picked a better cover name.  Calling herself Nellie Bly?  Anybody with half a brain could put those two together. 

Chloe could at least have picked a name that _wasn’t_ a famed reporter.

Now, against his better judgment, Clark is driving with Lois Lane in his Cadillac roadster—one of the last things his dad gave to him (although, it was confiscated by Jonathan Kent until he got his license)—to Chloe’s _actual_ safe house.  However, if he is going to be honest with himself, he really wants to see her too.  Things were so rocky between them last year, especially during the second half, and for all he knows, they parted on less-than-good terms.

“So what was your relationship with Chloe like?” asks Lois, trying to make conversation.  “Chloe could never stop talking about you in her emails, but what does the guy himself have to say?”

Clark rolls his eyes.  For someone who Chloe always said had no interest in journalism, Lois Lane sure asks pointed questions like a journalist.  “We were really close,” he says bluntly.

Lois scoffs.  “That’s all you have to say?  You make it sound like your relationship with my cousin is a bad memory.”

“It is _not a bad memory_!” shouts Clark.  Out of the corner of his eye, he can see that Lois looks satisfied.  _Damn it, I fell right into that._   He sighs heavily.  “We did everything together.  We solved a lot of mysteries surrounding Smallville High, a week never went by without at least sharing a coffee or one of us going to each other’s house for dinner, and we gave each other somebody to talk to when we were lonely.”

“Is that all you can give me without getting into the gorier details?” asks Lois.

Clark shoots her a look.

“Fine, forget I said anything,” says Lois. 

Clark’s attention returns to the road and he comes upon the neighborhood where Chloe was staying.  It is considerably smaller than the house that Gabe bought with some of his earnings working for his father, Robert Queen.  Still, it is quite cozy for a girl who doesn’t like the outdoors.

As Clark parks in the driveway, he notices something is off.  Focusing his x-ray vision, he looks to see if there is anybody home.  He sees two bodies lying on the ground.  His eyes widen.

“Something’s wrong,” he says as he turns off the car.

“Why, you have a sixth sense or something?” asks Lois. 

If he’s going to call it that, he has quite a few extra senses.  “Stay in the car.”

Lois scoffs and unbuckles her seatbelt.  “No!  If something is wrong with my cousin, then I am coming with you!”

Clark studies her for a minute.  Her eyes are wild and full of energy, but underneath that he sees a deep love for Chloe.  He knows because he’s had that look before, every time he’s had to save Chloe from whatever mess she’s gotten herself into. 

He grumbles.  “Alright, but stay close to me.”

Lois doesn’t listen and before he can stop her, she gets out of the car and runs up to the front door.  “She sure likes to do things her way,” he mutters to himself.  He gets out of the car and follows her into the unlocked house.  To put it more accurately, it looks like the door was _kicked_ in.  When he steps into the house, one of the first things he sees is Chloe’s Wall of Weird. 

He might have spent time worrying about ending up on that wall himself, but he was always more proud than he was appalled by it. 

Tearing his eyes away from the Wall of Weird, Clark sees Lois kneeling over the dead bodies.  He sighs.  “They were her security detail,” he explains ruefully.

“Either they weren’t very good ones or whoever killed them caught them by surprise,” says Lois.  She regards the wounds on the bodies.  “Huh, these don’t look like bullet wounds.  Take a look.”

Taking up her invitation, Clark walks over and kneels beside the bodies.  True to her word, they don’t look anything like bullet wounds. 

“It almost looks like someone killed them with a…a sword,” observes Clark.

Lois scoffs.  “Who uses a sword?  What is it with this town?”

“Land of the weird and the home of the strange,” Clark quotes proudly.  Lois stares at him blankly.  “Chloe’s words, not mine.”

“What are you two doing here?” Clark and Lois jump and turn to see Lex Luthor standing in the doorway.

Lex and Clark lock eyes with each other.  More and more lately, it feels like their friendship has been dissolving.  Helping with Chloe’s fake death, as Clark sees it, was a bit of an olive branch offered by Lex.  He just hopes that Lex continues to show that he’s willing to be a friend to him.

“Clark, I thought I made it clear no one was to know about Chloe’s safe house,” Lex scolds, acting as if they are the only two people in the room.

Clark grumbles.  “My friend here—”

“We are not friends,” Lois corrects him emphatically. 

“ _Chloe’s cousin_ here, Lois Lane overheard me explaining to Oliver what really happened,” Clark explains. 

Lex just stands there like a disapproving superior.  Oliver never did explain to Clark why he had a falling-out with Lex.  It was one of the few things that were never shared between them and they never kept secrets from each other.  At least they _almost_ never kept secrets.  Oliver’s going to want a full exposé on how he ended up being friends with Lex.

“Okay, guys, your nonverbals are killing me,” Lois complains.  “I’m trying to find out why Chloe isn’t here and why her bodyguards are dead.  And where’s my Uncle Gabe?”

“Gabe’s safe house is in Wichita,” explains Clark before Lex can stop him.  “And as far as I know, he’s fine.”

Lois lets out a sigh of relief.  “Oh, good.”

Lex’s phone buzzes.  He checks it.  “That’s Chloe’s tracking bracelet; she’s at the old foundry.”

Not waiting for anybody’s permission, Clark brushes past everyone and leaves the house.  He realizes that he can’t just leave his car here, so he gets in and wastes no time starting it and driving off.  In his rearview mirror as he slams his foot on the gas he sees Lois running after him and screaming several obscenities. 

“Sorry, Lois,” he apologizes half-heartedly.  Soon his speedometer reads well over one hundred miles per hour, but he still doesn’t feel he’s going fast enough.  He stops and quickly parks it in the woods before running the rest of the way to the foundry at superspeed. 

He comes up on the foundry and regards it for a minute.  There’s smoke rising from some of its smokestacks.  That’s strange.  The foundry was closed down months ago.  He focuses his hearing. 

Chloe’s heartbeat rings in his ears like bass drums at a rock concert.  Quickly, he finds an entrance and rushes into the building.  Moving parts, autonomous machines, sparks, molten metal, and forgery fires flood Clark’s vision and ears.  However, none of that had his attention.  What does is horrifying.  He’s sees Chloe, her face bloody and her hands bound and a guy with a—metal hand?—wrapped around her throat. 

Clark huffs as chills of anger go up and down his spine.  He grabs the guy, startling him as he pulls him off of Chloe and throws him around the room.  He—Metal-Man—Clark thinks, goes right through a couple of vent ducts before crashing to the ground in a nasty heap.  Metal-Man staggers to his feet and charges towards Clark.

“Come to Papa,” Clark hisses.  Metal-Man’s arm morphs into a sword, a strange transition from skin to metal, and takes a swing at Clark.  Clark blocks the blow, sending sparks everywhere as the blade impacts his arm.  _This shirt is ruined,_ Clark thinks to himself as this guy swings at him again and again.  This isn’t even a good fight and Clark hasn’t forgotten any of his martial arts lessons. 

Eventually, he grows bored.  “You’re wasting my time.”  He grabs the guy by the shoulders and his heat vision bursts through his eyes.  The man melts into a puddle of molten metal right before Clark’s eyes.  Not a very dignified way to go, but Metal-Man hurt somebody he cares about. 

Taking his eyes off the sizzling puddle, Clark rushes over to Chloe, who is sprawled on the ground. 

“Chloe,” he says tenderly as he gets down on his knees and cradles her in his arms.  It takes a moment or two for her to regain her senses. 

When her eyes open, they meet Clark’s eyes.   Without meaning to, emotion builds up within Clark.  The last time he spoke to her, it was a screaming match and he was worried that they were ready to call their relationship over. 

“Uh…” she begins, but before any words can be formed, she just begins sobbing and they throw their arms around each other. 

“I thought I’d lost you,” says Clark.  “I went by your safe house and then I saw those dead guards and…”

“It’s okay, Clark,” Chloe cuts him off between sobs.  “I’m here now.  You’re here now.  When did you get back?  Where did you go?” she asks as Clark helps her to her feet. 

“That’s a long story, Chlo,” laughs Clark.  “But Oliver’s back, so I can start with that at least.”

Chloe’s eyes widen.  “Your brother’s alive?”

Clark frowns.  “You don’t know?  I thought it would have been all over the news.”

Chloe laughs.  “I didn’t exactly have any access to the news these last couple of months and the only person I spent any time with was my Uncle Sam.”

“Oh,” Clark grunts.  “Well, anyway, let’s get you out of here before Lionel Luthor can send any more goons after you.”

Chloe smiles as she wraps her arm around Clark’s middle.  “I’d like that.”

They walk out of the foundry together. 

“Clark did you drive or did you run here?” asks Chloe quizzically as they step outside. 

Clark blushes furiously.  “A little bit of both.”

Chloe laughs.  “Well, if you rush me out of here, maybe you can buy me a coffee?  My caffeine meter is dangerously normal.”

“Does this mean we’re still friends?” asks Clark before he can stop himself.

Chloe looks at him seriously.  “We never got the chance to apologize to each other after everything that happened a few months ago, did we?  Clark, I am sorry about getting stuck under Lionel’s control.  He eventually saw right through all the false information you fed me and then he threatened my dad…”

Clark hugs Chloe again.  “I’m sorry too, Chlo,” he says quietly.  “And I never gave you a chance to explain yourself.”   

“Does this mean that I still have my best friend?” Chloe muffles against his shoulder. 

“You’re stuck with me, Chloe Sullivan,” Clark promises.  He scoops her up in his arms, causing her to yelp in surprise.  “Now let’s get you out of here.”

“And then I am going to kick Lionel Luthor’s butt tomorrow.”

Clark laughs and then bursts into superspeed.  He almost forgets to go back for his car. 

 

***

 

Clark returned to his car and then he and Chloe drove back to his house.  He had forgotten all about Lois until he found her at his house with a very angry look.  Some of that anger disappeared when Lois and Chloe laid eyes on each other.  Clark watched the exchange between them. 

Lois tearfully told Chloe that she was putting the worst couple of months of her life behind her. 

Chloe in turn, asked Lois what happened to her hand.  After exchanging an awkward glance with Clark, Lois explained that “her fist ran into a large, stupid lady.”

Oliver had to cover his mouth to hide his giggles and that only infuriated Clark further.

Chloe was disappointed that the Talon was closed down.  According to the sign, it would be a few weeks, when school has started up again, before it opened again.  She was however excited to see Oliver after him being missing for five years.  She started hitting him with question after question about where he was, what happened, was it difficult…

Clark pulled her aside and told her that Oliver would be happy to answer her questions at some point, maybe even have an exclusive as she is a friend, but he’s not at a point where he’s able to talk about it right now.  Chloe was reluctant, but Oliver is her friend and agreed.  She even tried apologizing for letting her curiosity get the better of her, to which Oliver simply brushed her off with a cup of coffee.

Oliver invited everyone to stay for dinner and just when they were about to sit down and eat, an unexpected visitor arrived. 

General Sam Lane.  Everyone held back as the General and Lois got into a heated argument about Chloe.  The General had explicitly told her not to go digging into Chloe’s fake death.  Lois argued that she was simply showing concern for her cousin and she felt that it was good that she had turned up anyway.  Chloe thanked her for that before anyone could stop her.

The General regarded Chloe for a minute or two.  To Clark, it looked like the man’s niece brought out some of his humanity as he calmed down a little bit. 

Then he confronted Clark and Oliver.  He asked who owned the house.  Clark was the one to tell him that their parents passed away a couple of years ago.  Clark had been living with the Kents last year and pulled a wild card by saying that he was moving back into his own house with his brother.  He noticed Oliver hiding his smile as he confirmed that. 

General Lane turned away from them then to confront Lois again.  He told her that she couldn’t return to MetU.  Apparently she didn’t have enough high school credits to be in college.  As a result, he’s making her stay in Smallville to redo her senior year until further notice. 

To say that Lois was unhappy about that would have been an understatement.  Where was she going to live?  Who was going to show her around school? 

To everyone’s surprise, Oliver invited her to stay with them.  General Lane seemed reasonably skeptical about letting his daughter stay with a couple of young men.  Thankfully, Chloe vouched for them, saying that they were both very respectable.

 _Thank you, Chloe_ , Clark thought. 

General Lane scrutinized him and his brother.  Clark doesn’t know about Oliver, but he felt like he was getting mentally castrated under General Lane’s distrusting eyes.   Eventually, he declared that Lois would be staying with the Queen boys. 

Well, at least it beat living out of her car.

As a courtesy, Oliver invited General Lane to have dinner with them.  Clark thought that the General saw it as a genuine offer, but he said he would have to take a rain check on the hospitality.  General Lane left without many words other than telling his daughter to behave.  Clark took comfort in seeing that the general seemed to trust his own daughter less than he did him and Oliver. 

After that, Oliver, Clark, Lois, and Chloe shared what turned out to be a lively meal.  They did have to restrict their conversations a bit as Lois was unaware of Clark’s abilities, but beyond that Clark feels that everyone had a good time.  

In an attempt to be cheeky, Chloe brought up some stories about Clark during Oliver’s absence.  She spoke some of Lana Lang’s failed attempts to win Clark’s affection.  Clark had to admit, some of the things Lana did were pretty outrageous.  To his embarrassment, she brought up that one time when Lana was caught stripping off her clothes in front of Clark in Smallville High’s pool room.  As much as Oliver said he was enjoying those stories, what he wanted to know more about what Clark’s tenure with the Kents.

Clark took the opportunity to do the talking.  Living with the Kents was a great experience for him.  It took several weeks for him to fully open up because of his parents’ deaths, but the Kents were patient and were only too kind.  Clark isn’t sure exactly what it was.  One day, he just started sharing some memories with Martha Kent about his parents.  He can’t remember exactly what he spoke of now, but just talking about them helped him open up more.  Plus, as Martha became increasingly pregnant with her child, Clark found himself coming out of his shell.

Eventually, there just came a moment when Clark remembered that the Kents were people who cared about him and, though they could never replace his parents, they included him. 

Sometime during his reminiscing, Chloe reached over and grasped his hand while Oliver squeezes his should in a brotherly manner.  The gestures seemed to make Lois feel incredibly left out.  Clark teased her by asking her if she needed a hug. 

Lois held up a hand and said, “Don’t even think about it, Smallville.”

Everyone laughed. 

When dinner was over, Chloe went home where her dad called and said would be meeting her.  Clark showed Lois to the bedroom that she could use.  It was a big room with a queen-sized bed, a desk, a dresser, and—what Lois seemed to appreciate the most—her own bathroom.  Clark asked if she needed anything else.  Lois said no and Clark bade her goodnight. 

It was a rough night.  Clark’s mind was racing.  In so little time, he came home, his brother has reappeared, and he’s met Chloe’s cousin.  Not only that, but when he got up for a late-night snack, Clark passed Oliver’s room.  He found Oliver curled up with no blanket or pillow on the floor in front of his window. 

Oliver was shirtless and though he looked peaceful, Clark could help staring at some of the scars on his body.  Some of the scars on his chest looked as if they came from sliding down a bunch of rocks.  There was a circular wound on his abdomen that looked very much like an arrow wound.  Many smaller, superficial scars covered Oliver’s body that may have come from scrapes and cuts that were likely never covered by proper bandages.  Clark wonders if Oliver simply cauterized his wounds. 

He shook his head and gently threw a blanket over his brother. 

“I’m sorry all of that happened to you, buddy,” Clark whispered as he left his brother’s room.

 

***

 

The following day, Oliver felt ready to jump off of Reever Dam.  Tess was coming over and, though the house was clean, Clark had helped him find something suitable to wear, and the fact that Chloe got Lionel Luthor incarcerated, he was completely worried. 

Women are no problem for him.  Even though he’s technically still dating Tess, even though he feels they are in limbo at the moment, he’s found himself leering at other women. 

Lois is pretty attractive.  So far, he’s found himself enjoying her brashness and for some reason, seeing her injure herself over punching Clark has made her even more attractive.  Maybe it’s just the fact that she punched him.  Oliver loves his brother, but even though they are most definitely going to hurt themselves instead, seeing people have the guts to punch him is quite entertaining.  If that’s not enough, her pajamas are very adorable.  She’s a beautiful, grown up young lady who wears fluffy bunny slippers and comical blue pajamas with clouds, airplanes, and little houses all over them.

How will Tess handle the idea of Oliver sharing a house with an attractive young woman?  She a few years younger than him, but Lois is very attractive.  Plus, Tess has never met Clark.  That should be interesting.

Clark is having a great day.  In celebration of Lionel Luthor going to prison, Clark is taking Chloe and Lois and going to Metropolis later.  He’s already cleaned himself up.  Blue silk shirt, ironed black pants, shoes that he shines with his bare hands and as always, his hair is perfect. 

Clark was kind enough to iron Oliver’s clothes for him.  Clark explained that it was one of the skills that Martha Kent taught him.  Oliver ended up wearing a green shirt with light tan khakis. 

It was sometime in the late afternoon that Tess came by.   Oliver heard the doorbell ring and he was so absorbed in his thoughts that the sound made him jump.  After straightening himself up, he went to open the door.

On the other side, Oliver found his breath hitching in his throat.  Tall, gray pants and a white sleeveless blouse and of course, her hair draped around her shoulder, Tess Mercer looks as beautiful as ever.  And she has what looks like Thai takeout in her hand.

“Tess,” Oliver greets.  “You look great.”

Tess inclines her head.  “You look better.” 

Oliver blushes.  He certainly _feels_ better than he has been.  “You wanna come in?” he steps aside and opens the door wider.

Tess smiles as she steps past the threshold.  “You have a nice place here,” she marvels, taking a slow turn.

It’s definitely not the biggest house in Smallville.   “Thank you, you want to take that into the kitchen?” he invites.

“No tour?” teases Tess.

“I’m hungry,” argues Oliver.

Tess laughs.  “Okay.”

“What, you’re not going to show her around the house?” asks the incredulous voice of Clark.  Oliver turns and sees Clark coming down the stairs.  “You must be Tess Mercer,” he presumes as he comes to stand by Tess.  He extends his hand.  “Clark Queen.”

It takes a moment for Tess to find her voice as Oliver watches her stare up at Clark like he’s some heaven-descended entity.  “Nice to meet you,” she finally says. 

A brief silence follows before Clark speaks up.  “Well, um, I’m leaving to go pick up Chloe and Lois at Chloe’s house.  Have fun, you two.”

Oliver watches his brother as he leaves. 

“Wow!” breathes Tess.

Oliver scowls at her.  She is still staring, love-struck, at his brother.  “He’s still in high school, you know.”

Tess clears her throat and her green eyes find his.  “Yeah, I know, but he’s just…wow.”

Oliver rolls his eyes.  He never thought there would be a day when he would be competing with his little brother. 

Are Kryptonians just naturally, ridiculously attractive?  Or is it just his brother? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So right now, it feels like I'm rewriting some of season four with some obvious differences, but I promise, eventually, it will be more AU and less canon. As always, thoughts, comments, are welcome. My next chapter might not show up until the weekend, but I'm still writing.


	8. Chapter Seven

_December 1 st, 1997,_

_Thanksgiving was a couple of weeks ago and my family had a few things to be thankful for.  Martha and the boys offered to take care of dinner and dessert.  My butler was a little disappointed that we had decided to have Thanksgiving dinner at the Kent house instead of at home._

_The boys are becoming so good at cooking (although, Oliver is leaning more towards baking) that they have fallen into a habit of making us dinner at least once a week.  Clark, if he has time, often makes his own breakfasts.  Laura has told Martha that she could start her own bakery or restaurant.  As much as I can tell she appreciates the compliment, I also see that she is quite comfortable in the confines of her own kitchen, cooking and baking for her family and friends._

_Clark did some cooking; Oliver baked the pumpkin and apple pies all by himself, according to Martha’s recipes.  So the first thing that everyone could be thankful for was the combined efforts of Martha, Clark, and Oliver providing our meal.  That thanksgiving evening, before we began eating, we went around the table saying what we were thankful for._

_Jonathan was thankful for such a fantastic turnout with this year’s harvest.  I might have something to do with that and it’s not just because the boys help out whenever they can.  I often vouch for the Kents and their crops.  Usually, their crops turn out quite nicely and I often get my produce from them when the time is right._

_Martha was thankful for having people willing to help her with dinner._

_Laura and I were thankful for our sons, having a profitable year with Queen Industries, and simply being together.  The boys moaned and groaned at our mushiness.  Well, when they have wives of their own, they will understand._

_The boys…they were a little more interesting in what they were thankful for._

_Oliver was thankful for a bunch of new videogames that have been coming out.  He was also thankful for the fact that he would be graduating in May.  He sure has grown up fast…or so it feels right now.  He may be basking in being a senior in high school right now, but his life is only going to grow more complicated as he gets older.  Laura and I agree that we ought to let him enjoy the euphoria while it lasts._

_Clark was thankful for people in his life willing to put up with him.  It was a tender moment.  I’m sure Clark knows how much his family loves him, but it doesn’t stop him from feeling like a freak.  He is a freak, but he’s the freak we chose to have in our lives.  The freak we chose to call family.  Recently, Clark has started having nightmares.  Many of those nightmares involve finding himself in a mental institution, or being experimented on, or being locked up somewhere with no one hearing his pleas for help.  More dreadfully, one of his nightmares involved Laura and I dumping him somewhere, some sort of institution or lab, and driving off without looking back or listen to his cries._

_Laura and I can’t stop him from having nightmares, and I worry that we’ll have trouble minimizing his growing insecurities, but the best we can do is show him that we love him with all our hearts.  I love Clark dearly.  To a certain extent, it’s made me hate the world and the people in it._

_I hate how ignorant people are.  There are several good novels and films in the world about alien invasions and I am starting to hate each and every one of them.  Not only are they born because of the fear of possible invasions, but also they inspire as much fear as they inspire fascination with the deep, black void of space._

_I hate how my son lives in a world where he has to hide who he is for fear of people who will fear him, hurt him, experiment on him, and take him away where he will never know freedom again. I hate that all those ideas are giving my Clark nightmares._

_There were a few nights where I or Laura had found ourselves falling asleep next to his bed.  Sometimes, Clark has gotten so afraid of nightmares that that fear has started to prevent him from getting a good night’s rest.  We would stay by his side and promise him that when he woke up, we would be right there.  Actually, we ended up having to sit in the armchair away from his bed.  The first time one of us tried it—me—I got a black eye from Clark’s thrashing around._

_In other news, Diana Prince visited my home back in July.  I can’t say that it was totally unexpected, but I would have appreciated a little more warning.  At this point, it seems like the only people I’m okay with showing up uninvited are Jonathan and Martha Kent and that’s about it.  I allow Clark and Oliver’s friends to show up uninvited to a certain extent, but I do prefer that they give me a little warning, especially Oliver since he’s the oldest.  Perhaps, I should add Ms. Prince to the list._

_I introduced the boys to her.  Oliver found himself blushing.  Who can blame him?  Diana Prince is a very beautiful woman—not that I would go around saying that for fear of what Laura would do to me.  Although, even Laura admitted to me later that she thought Diana was quite beautiful.  Clark is not very good at introducing himself to new people.  He can be very extroverted and active with those he knows and trusts, but still meeting people for him is a challenge at this stage in his life._

_It came as quite a surprise to him when Diana spoke to him.  She seems quite good with children.  I also think that she was trying to show Clark that she was a woman he could trust.  Before long, both boys ended up accepting her into their little circle of friends.  In the months that have passed, between emails, letters, and occasional visits, the boys have affectionately dubbed her “Aunt Di.”_

_I’ve lived in Smallville for some time now, but some of the paranoia of living in a large city still haunts me.  Smallville is a town where no one locks their doors and I lock my door.  I am on a first-name basis with many people in town.  Sometimes I miss the drone of cars, the high-rising skyscrapers of the city (Metropolis can be seen in the distance from the right parts of town, but that’s still a few hours away)._

_Things that I’ve learned to enjoy about a town that happens to have the word “small” in it are things like the clean air free of gasoline, the general friendliness of the people in it, the smell of crops during harvest, and of course, a safe place for my sons to grow.  I came to Smallville because it was where Clark landed and I believe that there is some significance to this location.  I also came because I don’t trust Lionel Luthor.  I stayed because it’s proven a relative safe haven for Clark._

_Speaking of Lionel Luthor, out of the blue, the man requested to meet me…at my house.  It’s been quite some time since we’ve spoken, but I can’t avoid him forever.  I don’t even know what he wants to speak to me about._

_I’ll see how it goes._

“You know social differences in cliques and hall passes aside, this place isn’t half-bad,” says Chloe as Lois parks her Mustang.  Clark offered to drive her to school in his Cadillac, but she wanted to drive herself.  Plus, she wanted to beat him to Chloe's so that she could take her to school.

Lois scoffs.  “It’s the varsity version of Dante’s seventh ring.” 

Chloe chuckles as they get out of the car.  “Come on, do you know how many people would kill to relive their senior year at high school?”

 _Not me_ , Lois thinks.  Chloe should give herself a semester of enduring senior year, and then another six months’ after she graduates, and she might end up right where Lois is.  Over time, Lois found herself hating high school and all the rigid social barriers that her classmates never seemed to want to break.  She was an army brat and everybody knew it.  If that wasn’t enough, she didn’t have many friends to brag about either.

“Make that semester,” she begins, “five more credits and I am out of this cow pile.”  However, the last few days, when she wasn’t bickering with Clark, she enjoyed her time with the Queen boys.  Dinnertime has been quite entertaining with them.  Oliver and Clark tend to compete with their cooking skills and Lois often finds herself getting sucked into whatever they end up talking about, leading to friendly meals full of laughter.  This past Sunday, they introduced her to Jonathan and Martha Kent.  Talk about a nice family, and their little daughter, Claire...she's just way too adorable.  Oddly enough, during just that one evening, Lois felt like she was in the middle of what a family should look like.  Not moving from place to place, sharing meals with a bunch of men in Army fatigues, her father spending more time with other high ranking officers...just a normal group of people enjoying dinner.  

“Five credits in one semester?” Chloe repeats incredulously.  “Lo, the only way you’re going to that is if you add an extracurricular to your class load.  Like, let’s say, writing for the Torch?” she suggests hopefully.

Lois groans as Chloe hugs her.  “No hard feelings here, cuz, but the last thing I want to be is a reporter.”  

“God, what could be worse than, you know, uncovering the truth and protecting the public?”

“And sticking your nose in other people’s business,” adds Lois smartly. 

Chloe beams.  “Like I said, you’d be perfect!” 

Lois frowns.  _Is she calling me nosy?_

“Oh, Chlo, if Lois doesn’t want to join the Torch, then she doesn’t have to.”

Lois turns and sees Clark in his expensive denim jeans and blue T-shirt that seems to barely fit against his muscular physique.  “Thanks, Smallville.”

“What, are you ganging up on me now, Clark?” pouts Chloe. 

Clark’s face falls as he clears his throat.  “No, no wouldn’t dream of it.”

Lois laughs before she can stop herself, but Chloe scowls.

 “And what extracurricular activities are you going to be doing?” she asks.  “Ballet?” 

Lois stops laughing.  “Wait, do you dance ballet, Clark?”

Clark smiles at her, looking completely unabashed.  “Yes, in fact I do.”

Lois nods.  If she had any hopes of teasing him for liking ballet, she might as well forget about them.  She doesn't know all that she can tease him with, but ballet doesn’t seem to be one of them. 

“Now aren’t you all just a sight for sore eyes.”

Lois focuses her attention on the new voice.  Her eyes find some African American, about average height, stocky build with thick, muscled arms contradicted by the boyish quality of his face.  Before she can ask who he is, Clark and Chloe speak up.

“Pete?” they ask incredulously.  So his name is Pete. 

Pete’s smile broadens.  Lois steps back and allows the old friends to catch up. 

“I thought you were staying in Wichita with your mom!” laughs Clark, hugging his old friend. 

“So did I, my man,” says Pete. 

“What made you change your mind?” asks Chloe, taking a turn hugging Pete. 

Pete shrugs.  “I don’t know, Chlo,” he answers.  “I guess somewhere along the line I just stopped feeling sorry for myself.”

“Does it have anything to do with this?” asks Chloe, staring up and down.  “You look like you swallowed a horse!”

Pete laughs.  “Nah, I just spent most of my summer at the gym.” 

“Are you going to trying out for the football team again?” asks Clark. 

Pete offers a considerate look.  “I was thinking about it.  Maybe Ross the Boss will finally be on the starting team for once.”

“Ross the Boss?” repeats Lois, cutting into the conversation.  All eyes turn to her. 

“Oh, sorry, Lo,” apologizes Chloe.  “This is our old friend, Pete Ross.”

“And you are?” asks Pete, leering a little too much. 

“Lois Lane,” Lois introduces herself coldly.  The last thing she wants right now is for guys to be ogling her.  The General forced her into this school due to a lack of enough credits to finish high school.  All she wants to do is get through it without any entanglements. 

“Damn,” whispers Pete.

Chloe, much to Lois’s appreciation, smacks him in the back of the head.  “That’s my cousin, Romeo.”

Pete straightens himself up.  “Yeah.  Sorry.”

The four of them proceed to enter the school, when something catches their attention.  If the choruses of catcalls and wolf whistles aren’t enough, the song blasting through the air definitely caught her attention.  She’s the first to turn to the source of the song—“Highway to Hell” by AC/DC—and she stops frozen.  Pulling into the parking lot, she sees what she thinks is a 1962 deep green Corvette convertible.  As the car parks and the song abruptly stops the girl that emerges from the Corvette definitely has a few guys drooling.

Average height, though shorter than Lois (or so she thinks from this distance), slender with small breasts, long dark hair with a lazy curl to it, brown eyes, and angular features giving her whole face a very sharp, piercing look to it.  High-heeled boots and dark blue denim jeans hug her legs, giving a clear view of the exact shape of them and Lois does have to admire the vintage-looking black biker jacket with the white blouse underneath offering a clear display of her cleavage.  

“Damn,” Lois, as well as Chloe, Clark, and Pete all breathe. 

“And so all of you shall be if you don’t get to class before the tardy bell,” says a stern, albeit amused, posh English voice behind them.  Lois turns with the rest of her new friends and her eyes settle upon a tall—perhaps as tall as Clark, though leaner—dark-haired with nice stubble, dark-eyed…really just altogether dark and handsome man.  He sets his hands on his hips as he regards the teenagers in front of him.

“Tardiness is very unbecoming and though I don’t particularly care, I’d hate to have to give you all detention on the first day back,” he drawls sweetly. 

Lois doesn’t know about Chloe, but she finds herself having to fight back some very naughty fantasies brewing in her head.  Would it be so bad to drag this man to an empty classroom and rip open his purple shirt?  Just to see what’s underneath it? 

“Luci, be nice,” says the girl from the Corvette as she comes into view. 

“Trixie, darling, I’ve told you at school, I am Mr. Morningstar, the guidance counselor,” Mr. Morningster scolds even as he plants a kiss atop…Trixie’s head.

And as their luck would have it, the tardy bell rings. 

“Oh, there’s the bell; shoo off to class,” prompts Mr. Morningstar.

“New guidance counselor, new classmate, and the unexpected return of an old friend,” Clark sums up thoughtfully.  “What next?”

 

***

Lana certainly didn’t find herself coming back to Smallville, least of all to Smallville High.  Yet, here she is once again, beginning her senior year at her parents’ alma mater.  And it seems like she’s not the only one who came back.  Pete is back from Wichita and he looks really good, if she would say so herself.  He’s always had a bit of a boyish charm to his looks, but some of that boyishness seems to have been replaced with muscle. 

She noticed a few girls stealing lingering glances at him as he passed by and, as per Pete, sometimes he stops and flirts with them.  Lana is in a committed relationship, yet she found herself playing with her hair as he passed by. 

And if Pete’s return isn’t enough, there’s also the new guidance counselor and his stepdaughter.  When Lana introduced herself to the devilishly handsome Lucifer Morningstar at the Talon—which seems to be undergoing a major renovation, much to her dismay—she was awestruck.  She had to remember why she was there—to ask if she could rent the apartment above the Talon. 

He accepted, although he asked her a strangely personal question.  He looked her in the eye and asked what she desired.  The annoying voice in her head was going nuts.  It sounded excited, thrilled, terrified, awed, and in love all at once.  It was telling her some nonsense about Mr. Morninstar, or Lucifer as he insisted on her calling him, being the devil himself.  Anyway, before she could stop herself, she said that she just wanted to know where she belonged in the world.  She wished she could know if she made her parents proud. 

And then Lucifer’s monosyllabic reply was “Boring.”  After seeing her break down in tears, he immediately softened up.  From what she could tell, Lucifer is just socially inept—however after seeing how he interacted with Trixie and his seven-year-old biological daughter, Emma, she ruled that one out—or he had some unresolved parent issues.  If that’s the case, then it must be really bad if he has trouble empathizing with other people who have similar issues. 

And today, Lana finds out that he’s not only the new proprietor of the Talon, but also the school’s guidance counselor?  It seem too full of a plate to her.

Right now it’s free period and Lana just found a note in her locker.  A bit middle school, but it was from Jason.  The room number on the piece of paper leads her to the coach’s office.  Why the coach’s office?  Despite her wonder, she opens the door and steps inside.

No sooner that she passes the threshold does she find powerful arms around her waist and lips pressed against her lips.  Despite her surprise, she wraps her arms around his neck as she kisses him back.  _Oh, he’s such a better kisser than Whitney ever was…_ her own thoughts moan.  Somehow, she finds the willpower to pull away. 

“Jason, what are you doing here?” laughs Lana.  “I could get in trouble.”  The age difference, the fact that she should be tutoring advanced literature right now…

“I could get fired,” Jason fires back bluntly. 

Lana frowns.  “Fired?” she repeats.  She looks down at his shirt—a red pull-over with the Crows logo on it.  Her eyes widen.  “Do you work here?”

“Assistant coach,” confirms Jason.

 _He’s in a relationship with you, yet he gets himself employed where you go to school_ , mocks the voice in her head.  _Quite the witless wonder, isn’t he?_   Lana shakes her head.  “Oh, Jason, why would you do that?”

Jason shrugs.  “I wanted to be close to you and I needed a way to pay tuition at Central Kansas A and M.”  He glances down ruefully.  “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Before Lana can say anything further on the matter, the door to the office opens again and she quickly removes herself from Jason. 

“Hi, you must be the new coach, I’m Pete Ross,” Pete introduces himself, extending his hand. 

Jason grasps it.  “Coach Teague.” 

Pete notices Lana, who was surreptitiously fixing her shirt so that both her shoulders were covered.  “Lana, what are you doin’ here?”

Lana clears her throat.  “I was…”

“The principal asked this young lady to give me the grand tour,” Jason answers for her.

 _Thank you, Jason_ , she mouths while Pete isn’t looking.

“Ah, did you know that this guy threw a passing record his freshman year at MetU?” Pete asks Lana. 

Jason glances down as his cheeks flush.  “Yeah, well it’s amazing how quickly you fall off a recruiter’s list when you tear your rotator cuff.” 

 _This game sounds like a rather violent sport_ , the voice in Lana’s head muses thoughtfully.  _And people enjoy watching these young men hurt themselves?_

“So, are you a part of the team?” Jason asks Pete curiously.

“Um, not exactly,” replies Pete nervously.  “I didn’t think I’d be coming back to Smallville, so I quit.  I was hoping to join again.”

Jason nods thoughtfully.  “Well, you will have to go through tryouts again.  Do you have a permission slip?” even as he asks the question, Pete gets out a folded slip of paper from his backpack.  He hands it to Jason and Jason unfolds it and takes a moment to read it over.  “Well, it looks like everything is in order.  I hope to see you at tryouts, Pete.”

Pete lets out a sigh of relief.  “Awesome.”  He still gives Lana that sense that he has an irrational desire to prove himself to others.  She hopes that sometime he will find a way to not feel that way. 

Pete and Jason shake hands one last time and Pete leaves the room. 

Jason turns to Lana after the door closes, looking rueful, scared, and hopeful all at once.  “I think I made things between us a bit complicated, didn’t I?”

 _That would be a quite an understatement, Jason Teague_ , sneers the voice in Lana’s head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewatched "Facade" after I finished writing this and I realized that Jason wasn't wearing a coach's shirt. Still, I think it adds to the overall complicated situation that--Lason? Jana? Jasana?--have put themselves in. Everybody is a perfect liberty to picture whomever they choose as a teenage Trixie Decker, but I for one picture Nina Dobrev. At least to me, she does look like she has a few characteristics shared between Chloe Decker and Dan Espinoza.
> 
> Also, with how close she and Maze were in Lucifer, I thought it wouldn't be so bad if her style of dress was partially inspired by Maze. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed! I wasn’t sure about Lana’s “deepest desire” but it seemed to make the most sense. To me at least. 
> 
> My weekend is cut short on the account of the upcoming Thanksgiving week, but I'll try to get another chapter in between today and tomorrow. Bright side is that after this week, I have a five-day weekend! Lots of writing and reading ahead.


	9. Chapter Eight

_December 10 th, 1997_

_My meeting with Lionel Luthor went better than I thought it would.  Since it seemed unavoidable, I introduced him to my sons. Lionel has seen them on an occasion or two over the years, but it was never for more than a few minutes.  As such, I expected the boys to behave, even if I might have indirectly taught them to dislike the Luthors…or at least Lionel Luthor.  Thankfully, they did._

_Lionel congratulated Oliver on graduating in May as well as being accepted into Princeton.  Oliver, being very confident around others, thanked him.  He had no reservations in expressing his dislike for high school and being thankful that it would be ending soon.  Lionel offered him a bit of sage advice, reminding him that his life was only just beginning.  He isn’t wrong, but he didn’t have to disenchant him either.  Then again, based on my observations on how Lionel always treated Lex, he’s a bit of—or rather too much of—a tough love sort of man._

_When Lionel introduced himself to Clark, Oliver became, at least to Laura and I, noticeably apprehensive.  I imagine if Oliver had his bow or at least something sharp, he would have harmed Lionel if he laid a hand on him beyond the simple handshake.  Speaking of which, Lionel commented on Clark’s rather firm handshake.  He asked him if he worked out much.  Clark is eleven; he doesn’t work out.  Still Clark shyly told him no, that he simply worked on a farm to earn money._

_Lionel was incredulous.  I guess it was strange for him hearing that I had made my sons do farm work.  At first it was a way of thanking Jonathan Kent for being willing to hide Clark’s spaceship in their storm cellar.  Not that Lionel needed to know that.  I simply told him that it built character.  Lionel seemed thoughtful.  He expressed that maybe he should talk Lex into getting a part-time job.  Not necessarily a bad idea._

_If Lionel Luthor was ever angry about not getting his hands on Clark when he had the chance, he seems to have moved past them.  That or he has buried that anger so deep that it’s become a part of him.  I cannot recall seeing Lionel offer a true, genuine smile in a long time._

_Before I actually sat down and spoke to Lionel, I had Laura take the boys shopping.  It was a school night, but they had both finished their homework, plus I know how devious they can be.  I wanted to be able to have a conversation with Lionel without them eavesdropping.  The boys have gotten quite clever in figuring out how to eavesdrop on my private conversations, but at least with Laura and I, as well as the Kents, they are very bad liars.  It’s all fun really, but not when it’s something serious._

_So as soon as I sat down with Lionel, Lionel got straight to business.  He wanted to negotiate a business merging between LuthorCorp and Queen Industries.  I didn’t like the idea, but I allowed him to continue.  I let out a sigh of relief when he told me that he didn’t want our companies to completely become one.  What he proposed was a partnership operation between our companies.  When I asked what operation sort of operation he had in mind, he immediately brought up meteor rocks._

_I tried not to show it, but I was worried.  Since discovering the meteor rocks and the harm they caused Clark, my company has surreptitiously been hoarding as much meteor rock as they could find.  I’m certain there is still plenty out there, but so far, I have quite a few heavily guarded warehouses filled with green meteor rocks.  More recently, some of my people have discovered meteor rocks that are red instead of green.  I don’t know what it does, but I don’t want to find out either._

_Apparently somebody who works for LuthorCorp has stumbled upon meteor rocks as well.  The only difference is, instead of just hoarding it they have begun to_ experiment _with it.  According to Lionel, the ways that the meteor rocks can improve technology is remarkable, even unbelievable.  I guess as form of rebuilding our past friendship, he wanted to set up a branch of both our companies where we would continue to experiment with meteor rocks and discover the things they could do, the ways that they could improve technology and even medicine._

_I was hesitant.  This could be a problem for my family.  It could be beneficial, as I could monitor what is being done with those meteor rocks.  It could be a way for Lionel Luthor to scam me out of my own company._

_I might be making a deal with the devil, but I agreed on one condition:  I would set the terms for our partnership.  Lionel Luthor is someone who prefers to do things his way, but he seemed quite desperate to form this partnership.  He agreed._

_I still haven’t told my family._

_To be honest, I’m afraid of how they will take it, even if all I say is that Queen Industries and LuthorCorp have started an interdependent branch._

_If I don’t tell them myself, come January they will find out on the news._

_I wouldn’t hear the end of it._

 

After having such a painful year last year, Clark feels that his senior year is off to a good start.  His brother is alive and well.  His relationship with Chloe…they agreed that they aren’t ready to jump back into being boyfriend and girlfriend, but they haven’t completely dismissed the idea either.  Either way, he has his best friend back.  For once, Lana isn’t flirting with him.  It seems to him that she has overcome her crush on him, although he has yet to meet her new boyfriend.  They are still dance partners in their ballet class—something she joined because he was in it—but at least they can go through their routines without any awkwardness between them.

Next to seeing his older brother alive, the most surprising thing in Clark’s life right now is the return of Pete.  After how badly things ended between them, Clark didn’t think he’d see Pete again.  He feels that Pete was understandably fed up with where his life was going.  His parents had divorced and he was tired of how the burden of Clark’s secret seemed to constantly put him in harm’s way.  Clark didn’t even think that Pete would speak to Chloe again.  Clark told Chloe his secret after having to ditch her to save his friend Lana during their Spring Formal.  Then Pete accidentally stumbled on Clark’s spaceship and he was forced to explain to him what he was.

Chloe’s words were, “I always knew there was something special about you, Clark Queen.”

Pete looked at Clark like he was an alien.  

Between the two of them, Chloe always had an easier time keeping Clark’s secret, whereas it seemed that Pete only grew more envious of him, ultimately culminating to his leaving town. 

So, Clark had not expected to see Pete again, at least not in Smallville.  Pete told everyone that he simply stopped feeling sorry for himself.  A few weeks into the school year now, Clark thinks that that could be agreeable.  After acing tryouts, Pete quickly became the new starting quarterback.  Over pizza, Pete admitted he was worried about the other guys accepting him. 

Clark took the opportunity to listen in on some of the things the other players were saying.  The ones who remembered Pete wondered what happened to him over the summer.  He left Smallville being a smallish member of the team, or as the coach from part of freshman year put it, “He ain’t got a lick of talent, but he’s got a ton of heart.”  It’s seems to Clark that that has recently proven to be quite wrong. 

To Clark’s surprise, he has noticed Pete flirting with Lana.  Lana on the other hand, she talks to Pete, but it’s clear, at least when discussing it with Lois, that she’s in a committed relationship with someone.  Clark wonders who.

Then of course, there is Lois.  When her hand had fully healed from punching him, Clark took the opportunity to tell her to let it be a lesson.  She flipped him off. 

When they aren’t arguing or teasing each other, she’s become a bit of a tacit friend to him.  He hasn’t answered any of her questions regarding his relationship with Chloe.  Eventually, she just stopped asking. 

The fact that Oliver is back seems to have rejuvenated some of Clark’s popularity.  People at school have slammed him with question after question about his brother.  Ironically, Chloe hasn’t asked him for an interview for the Torch.  He has told her in private how happy he is to see his brother, although he does feel that Oliver has changed a bit. 

He is still the same quirky, witty guy with a wry sense of humor, but there seems to be something a bit more…mature about him.  Clark has also seen the scars on his body, none of which Oliver wants to talk about beyond trying to humorously say that he didn’t exactly have any proper first aid kit.  Oliver has always been a flirty guy, but when Clark and Oliver were invited to some sort of “welcome back” party hosted by Queen Industries, he barely spoke to any of the women beyond the polite conversation. 

Eventually, Clark, with the help of Lois and Chloe, just helped sneak him out of the party.  Clark took them all to a favorite restaurant of theirs from growing up.  It might have been a mistake as Oliver quickly grew emotional over the fact that their parents weren’t there.  He rushed out and went home before Clark could stop him.  Lois and Chloe reassured him that at least he tried. 

Not giving up on getting Oliver to get out of the house, Clark, with the help of Lois, talked him into going to the school’s football game.  It was the first game of the season and Pete really wanted his friends to be there.  It did take some convincing.  Oliver said that he had contacted Princeton and they were willing to accept him as it wasn’t exactly his fault for not showing up five years ago.  However, since he had been gone so long, they needed him to retake his SATs.

Oliver has buried himself in his studies as a result.

So Lois, little to Clark’s knowledge, hid all of Oliver’s books and SAT prep papers.  When Oliver came home from spending time with the Kents, he looked ready to throw Lois out of the house.  Savagely, Clark wouldn’t mind that.  Lois has her own bathroom and everything, but she does get into Clark’s ice cream just to annoy him. 

Jonathan and Martha Kent, with whom Clark and Oliver have assured that they are behaving in spite of having a girl in the house, were amused.

Clark and Lois managed to pull Oliver away from his studies and now here they are at the Crows game.

Seated between Lois and Chloe with Oliver to Chloe’s left the four of them scream and shout as the game progresses.  The Crows and the visiting team are neck to neck with touchdowns.  A few minutes ago the Crows were ahead.  Now the visiting team is ahead with twenty-one to fifteen. 

Both teams are out of timeouts.  Throughout the game, a few altercations erupted between some of the players.  Sadly, some of those altercations were between the Crows themselves.  The other team members are still trying to accept Pete as their quarterback and so far it looks like they have only reluctantly been listening to whatever he has to say in their huddles.  Since Chloe was curious, Clark listened in on one of the huddles. 

Pete had a good play planned out, but one of the players asked him, “When we lose this game are you going to run to Wichita again?”

Coach Teague had to come between them before things got uglier than they already were.  He gave the team an ultimatum:  Either they figure out how to work together or the team would forfeit the entire season.  The team, as well as Clark if he will be honest with himself, thought he was bluffing.  He wasn’t; Principal Reynolds approved. 

Smartly taking that to heart, the team had since started figuring out how to work together. 

The Crows have the ball now and Clark and his friends collectively hold their breath as they wait for Pete to receive the ball.  The ball is thrown and everyone sprints to the edges of their seats as Pete throws the ball.  One of the other team members catches it and charges towards the end zone like a bull.  He narrowly dodges one, now two, now three players from the opposing team before being brought down at the seven-yard line.  The game is almost over with only ten seconds left on the clock.

The line is reassembled.  Now everyone is extremely eager to see the outcome of this game.  If the Crows lose the first game of the season, there’s no doubt that Pete will bare a large amount of the blame.  It won’t be entirely his fault—he’s been playing very well—but from what Clark could tell the team is still trying to accept him as their quarterback. 

Pete receives that ball once more and he immediately tosses it.  After narrowly escaping the reaching hands of the other team, the wide receiver catches it just as he is tackled to the ground…within the end zone.  The crowd erupts in applause.  Clark hugs Chloe; Lois hugs Oliver.  Clark and Lois turn to hug each other.  After a minute’s hesitation, they hug as well.  They still bicker a lot, but Clark thinks he’s finding a new friend in Lois.  She already seems to be great friends with Oliver, which is good for him.  So far, very few of Oliver’s friends have contacted him and the ones who have feel like strangers to him.

So right now Clark doesn’t like Lois too much, but he is thankful that she’s become a bit of a friend to Oliver. 

As people begin filing out of the bleachers, Pete meets them halfway.  Having already been swarmed by his teammates, who no doubt have officially welcomed Pete as a part of their team, Pete is practically glowing. 

“Nice game, Pete,” Oliver congratulated. 

“It was a _great_ game!” Pete fired back.  “I was worried about that last pass, but Gavin caught it!”  After exchanging a glance with Oliver and Chloe, all they can do is laugh.  Pete is bouncing with excitement and that bright, happy grin of his seems glued to his face. 

“Hey, check it out,” says Lois. 

Everyone turns to her and then in the direction she is indicating.  There, still seated on the bleachers, is Trixie Morningstar…with a large book in her hands. 

“Was she reading the entire game?” asks Clark.  With all the noise, he didn’t see how anyone could find the peace to read a book.  And no one is sitting with her.  It doesn’t surprise him too much.  Guys still stare at her a lot—even he’s guilty of that—but everyone quickly learned that she likes to keep to herself.  She barely speaks and when she does, she always seems to say exactly what the teacher wants to hear and more.

Perhaps the only person that Clark has seen her speaking more than two words to is Mr. Morningstar and that little sister of hers, Emma.  At least she seems to have a steady relationship with her stepfather and sister.

Clark takes a tentative step towards her.  He doesn’t want to invade Trixie’s personal space, so he stops at least five feet away from her.

“Interesting book?” he asks conversationally. 

Trixie doesn’t look up or even flinch.  However, Clark sees a perplexed look pass her face briefly.  Perhaps she’s not used to someone approaching her.  “ _American Gods_ , by Neil Gaiman,” she says.  “Heard of it?”

Clark cannot say he has.  “No, but I have heard of Neil Gaiman.  What’s it about?”

Trixie looks up from her novel finally, frowning at Clark.  “It’s Clark, right?  Clark Queen?”

Clark smiles uncertainly. 

“First of all, _Clark_ , it is very rude to talk to someone while they are trying to enjoy a book and second of all, don’t you have a victory party to attend for this stupid game?”

Clark gapes at her, but he quickly thinks up a comeback.  “If this game is so stupid, then why are you here?” 

Trixie opens her mouth but no sound comes out.  Finally, she marks her page with a bookmark and closes her book.  Clark takes the opportunity to sit down next to her.  Clark turns to his friends and they take the silent message that maybe it’s time for them to leave.  He tosses his keys to Chloe.  As excited as she looks to be driving his Cadillac, he trusts her.  Plus, she’s a better driver than Lois.  Not that he would tell Lois that.

When his friends and brother leave, Clark turns to Trixie. 

“Touché, Clark Queen,” she admires.  “I attended this stupid game because it gave me a chance to get away from my stepdad.”

Clark frowns.  “Do you not like him or something?”

Trixie’s eyes widen.  “No!  I love him!  I…” she stops and then glares at Clark.  “Why am I even talking to you?  Better yet, why are you even talking to me?”

Clark shakes his head, not sure what to say.  “I was just making conversation,” he finally says carefully.  “But, if you would rather be alone, fine.  I’ll just saunter off.”  He rises to his feet, straightens his blazer, and turns to leave.   He mentally counts his steps before Trixie says something—assuming she says anything at all.

“Wait,” and so she does.  Clark halts, but tries not to look triumphant.  “I saw you give your keys away to your girlfriend.”

“She not my…” Clark isn’t sure what to call Chloe right now.  Their relationship is…out of sorts, but for certain they are best friends.  “She’s my best friend.”

“Whatever, I was just going to offer you a ride,” explains Trixie. 

Clark turns around slightly.  He sees her standing not far from him.  A messenger bag is slung over her shoulder where he assumes her book is and now that he has a good look at her, he takes in her attire.  Much like her usual clothing—at least as far as he’s seen—she’s wearing a cap-sleeved red blouse under a black suit-vest and her black slacks do little to hide the high-heeled boots that shine at the bottom of them.  Clark wonders if she shines those shoes on her own.  It takes him about thirty seconds of shining his own shoes before they shine with a twinkle. 

“My friends are off to the Talon’s reopening,” he tells Trixie. 

For the first time ever, Clark sees the gentlest of smiles cross Trixie’s face.  “I happen to be going in that same direction.  My stepdad will want to see me on the first night of his reopening that coffeehouse.”

“Is it still a coffeehouse?” asks Clark curiously.  Rumor has it, Mr. Morningstar used to own a lavish nightclub in Los Angeles.  Clark half-worried that the man would turn what has been one of his hangout spots into something of the sort.  Smallville is a bit _too_ small to make much off of a nightclub.  Metropolis would be a much more profitable option.

“It’s still a coffeehouse,” Trixie promises.  “So, let’s go if you still want a lift.”  She brushes past him and he follows her.

Of course, Clark could just _fly_ there—the shoes he’s wearing aren’t good for running—but then he would have to explain to people like Trixie, or Lois why he got there so quickly when he gave Chloe his keys.  Trixie seems less gullible than Lois. 

Clark does love flying though.  Ever since he discovered the ability when he was fifteen, he has enjoyed it quite a bit.  He’s not sure why he hasn’t told Oliver about it yet.  He knows his brother loves him, but it does seem like Oliver is still trying to process everything.

Oliver clearly wants a full exposé of the last five years of his brother’s life, but maybe just a little bit at a time. 

Trixie leads Clark to the parking lot and he sees that her Corvette is now one of only a handful of cars left in the lot. 

“You have a beautiful car,” says Clark, trying to coax a smile out of her. 

“It used to be my stepdad’s,” explains Trixie as she gets into the car.  “We take very good care of it.”  As soon as Clark gets in, Trixie starts the engine and they drive off.

Clark doesn’t say anything, but for someone who says she takes good care of her car, Trixie sure likes to drive over the speed limit.  Subtly, he listens for any nearby deputies.  The closest chatter he hears from any of them is a few miles from the main road they are using.  Clark is not exactly innocent himself when it comes to speeding, but then again he has his super-hearing so that he can listen for cops. 

Trixie’s speeding doesn’t bother him much, at least until she almost rear-ends a truck. 

“Trixie stop!” he shouts.  

She slams her foot down on the brakes and the car comes to a halt a mere five feet from the truck.  Clark is thankful that this car, despite being a 1962 model, has the sash.  He doesn’t know too much about cars, or when sashes were added to seatbelts, but he thinks that it might have been added recently.

Panting hard, Clark glances at Trixie.  For someone who almost had an accident, she looks unperturbed.  Her heart isn’t racing and as far as he can tell, she doesn’t seem all too concerned. 

 _Does she have a death wish?_ Clark wonders.

Anyway, Clark sees that the Talon isn’t too far now.  He sees his Cadillac parked nearby along the sidewalk.  In what he is sure to be a display of consideration, Trixie parks behind it.  After turning off the car, she hops out before Clark can thank her for the ride. 

Deciding against trying to get a conversation out of her, Clark follows suit.  He follows her across the street to the Talon.  As he reaches the sidewalk, he gives it a thoughtful look. 

From the outside, it looks very much like old theater that Lex and Lana renovated and reopened as a coffeehouse.  However, the windows are darker to the point that they remind Clark of the windows on one of the limos that he rode around with his parents in from time to time.  It still has that box office that nowadays is just there.  One of the few times that Clark has seen any use come out of it are Christmastime when it housed Christmas trees, lights and all manner of love for coffee mixed with the spirit of Christmas.  Likewise, in October it tended to be decorated with spooky, albeit family-friendly, decorations. 

Now that box office seems to have found a new use.  It looks like a shelf reaching to the ceiling has been placed against the glass of the office.  On that shelf are coffee mugs.  White mugs and red mugs all cleverly placed to form a mosaic message.

“ _Fiat lux_ ,” Clark reads thoughtfully.

“‘Let there be light,’” he and Trixie translate as one. 

“Is Mr. Morningstar a religious guy?” asks Clark. 

Trixie laughs shortly.  “I guess you could say that.”  With that cryptic message, Trixie steps through one of the double doors and disappears.  Giving the outside of the building one more look and reading the “Grand reopening” sign on the message board that once upon a time showed movie times, Clark walks into the building.

He steps into the sounds of laughter, conversation, and someone playing the piano.  Much of the Talon is very much the same.  Same tables, same bar, same fancy coffee machines, same tiled floor, but that’s about where it stops.  The place was repainted to show a redder finish with intricate designs of Latin phrases, coffee mugs, and swirly pinstripes cleverly outlining everything.  No offense to Lana’s efforts when she helped renovate the place a couple of years back, but this has more artistic, if not slightly irreverent, appeal to it.  The furniture appears plusher, not to mention garishly more expensive. 

Clark wonders how deep the pockets of Lucifer Morningstar actually are.  He has already proven that he has no shame in wearing Burberry suits to school.  Clark has even seen him unashamedly flirting with much of the female staff.  He’s never peeked into the guidance office with his powers, but still Clark hopes that Mr. Morningstar is keeping his hands to himself. 

One of the biggest changes to the Talon is the large Steinway piano playing in the corner, its occupant being none other than Mr. Morningstar himself. 

He’s quite talented if Clark will say so himself.  It’s a jazzy, fast-paced piece in, if Clark remembers from his piano lessons, F major full of arpeggios, scales and all manner of insanely placed time signature changes.  Most prominently, the time signatures seem to be nine-eight and five-four.  Clark thinks that if Mr. Morningstar wanted to, he could easily join a jazz, or a progressive metal band.

“There you are, Clark!”

Clark snaps back to attention and sees Chloe bounding towards him.  He smiles. 

“Chloe,” he greets back.  He offers the place another glance.  “The place sure is different.”

“I know!” Chloe agrees excitedly.  “Now on weekends, we get to hear live music on a more regular basis!”

Clark frowns.  “Proprietor of a _Casablanca_ -esque coffeehouse and guidance counselor,” he muses.  “Mr. Morningstar has a lot on his plate.”

Chloe glances back at Mr. Morningstar who has ended his jazzy improvisation with a flourish.  She shrugs.  “He seems to be doing it pretty well.  “Hey, Lana,” Clark glances past Chloe and sees that Lana has indeed come into view.

“Hey, Clark,” Lana greets, seemingly ignoring Chloe. 

“Lana,” Clark greets back shortly.  “I almost didn’t recognize this place when I walked through the doors.”

Lana chuckles softly.  Clark could be wrong, but he thinks it’s possible that she’s not altogether happy with the changes.  Understandable; she worked hard to bring this place out of the ashes.  All she wanted was to not only breathe life back into a landmark, but also preserve a memory from her late parents.  Now it’s more lavish and less…her.  “Mr. Morningstar did his best to keep some things the same.  I’m renting the apartment upstairs and Mr. Morningstar hasn’t done anything to it.”

Clark smiles knowingly.  “Well good for him, then.”

Lana smiles one last time before disappearing into the crowd again.  Clark stares after her thoughtfully.

“That is weird,” he voices.

“All this time pining after you and suddenly she isn’t,” adds Chloe, as if having read his thoughts.  “Oh and Clark, I know we haven’t had a chance to talk about this, but…” Clark gazes at her and she takes a deep breath.  “I know last year you were upset with over that whole deal with Lionel Luthor…”

“I forgave you for that,” Clark reminds her patiently.  “Or have you forgotten that that was a shared effort?”  Admittedly, Clark felt more than a little betrayed when he found out that Chloe was digging into his life for Lionel Luthor (not that there was much about him that she didn’t know).  After some sage advice from Martha Kent, Clark apologized for being so harsh about it with her and together they put together a long—and incredibly false—history detailing his early life and heritage.  They even enlisted the help of Dr. Swann, who has been a mentor of sorts for Clark, in making sure it was all foolproof.

Chloe seems to have release some of the tension she was holding.  “I…I was hoping that we could go back to the way things were?” she asks sheepishly. 

Clark smiles down at her.  After that plane exploded, killing his parents and leaving him with no family (or so he thought) he was a mess.  Instead of working through the pain, Clark put on a class ring with a red kryptonite crystal and ran away, but not before he broke up with Chloe.  Even though she had every right to hate him for it, she found him in Metropolis and somehow convinced him to get rid of that ring and come home. 

For him, it showed the depths of her feelings for him.  They resumed their relationship and she helped him through his grief.

“You mean more to me than you’ll ever know, Chloe,” he promises her.  “I’m just not ready for that yet.”

Chloe smiles and glances down, hiding the tears forming in her eyes.  Clark places a finger under her chin and tilts her face up to meet his eyes again. 

“But that doesn’t mean that I don’t want to at least give it a try, take it slow,” he adds reassuringly.  “If we can get our relationship back to where it was, great; if it doesn’t work out, then we’ll still be best friends.”

A smile finds its way through Chloe’s tears.  She quickly wipes them away.  “That’s all I want, Clark.  And if things don’t work out, you’ll be my favorite ex.”

Now Clark is smiling.  “And you mine,” and he means it.  His relationship with Chloe, girlfriend or not, is anything but a bad memory.  It’s among his happiest. 

“What’s going on here?”  Clark and Chloe look up to see Lois.  Clark grimaces as she stands not far from them with her arms crossed over her chest, staring at them like a stern mother. 

“We were just about to grab a coffee,” Clark explains sweetly.  “Or do we need your permission, Lois?”

Chloe giggles, but Lois scowls.  She looks at them in turn and Clark feels that she might be trying to say, “I’ll be watching you.”

With a scoff, Lois whips around to go back to her table.  She does it too quickly and her foot hits a chair as someone pushes it out to get up.  Yelping, she loses her balance and falls.  Before Clark can rush over and catch her, someone else beats him to it right before she hits the ground. 

The commotion causes a number of people to stop whatever they were doing and stare.  The person who caught Lois is Trixie Morningstar. 

Clark cocks his head.  It’s an interesting picture that reminds him somewhat of some of his tango lessons with Chloe.

Lois stares blankly up into the chocolaty depths of Trixie’s eyes. 

“You really ought to watch your step,” Trixie scolds.

“And you really ought to wipe your mouth,” Lois fires back, indicating the whipped cream smeared on the corners of Trixie’s lips. 

“What is going on here?” everyone turns their attention to Mr. Morningstar in his blue shirt and black vest.  Tall like Clark and that kind of handsome that makes the guys jealous and the girls drool, he stands there staring questioningly, if not amusedly at the picture before him.

“Nothing, Lucifer,” replies Trixie as she helps Lois to her feet.  “I was just helping someone who doesn’t seem to watch where she is going.”

Everyone laughs, but Lois’s cheeks flush bright red as she scowls in Trixie’s direction. 

Mr. Morningstar turns his attention away from his stepdaughter and focuses on the crowd.  “Okay, how is everyone doing this fine evening?” he asks jovially.   

The coffeehouse erupts in cheers before settling down again. 

“I am relatively new in this lovely town of yours, but I do hope to get to know all of you in time,” announces Mr. Morningstar.

“Quite to people person,” Clark mutters to Chloe, who giggles. 

“Now is there any of you who plays the piano?” asks Mr. Morningstar invitingly.  “How about you, Mr. Queen?”

Clark’s face melts as all attention turns to him.  “What?”

“Do you play the piano?” asks Mr. Morningstar curiously with that annoyingly devilish smile of his.

“He’s amazing at the piano,” Chloe answers for him.

Clark glances down at her indignantly and she only winks. 

“Lovely!” exclaims Mr. Morningstar excitedly.  “Why don’t you play something for us?”

The coffeehouse erupts in encouraging cheers.  At Mr. Morningstar’s encouragement, the place starts chanting “Queen!  Queen!  Queen!”

Seeing no way out of this, Clark rolls his eyes and closes the distance between him and the piano.  The crowd cheers again before dying down to a simmering anticipation to what he’s going to play for them.

Clark sits down on the bench and regarding the ivory keys thoughtfully.  _What am I going to play?_  The question replays in his head over and over again.  The rational part of him reasons that he can just play something or waste a bunch of time sitting and staring at the keys. 

With a deep breath, one undoubtedly shared by the audience, Clark places his right hand over the keys.

 _Here goes nothing._   His right hand begins the intro to AC/DC’s Thunderstruck.  That fast legato beat is a great workout, keeping his coordination in check.  If he were human, he suspects Angus’s intro could easily wear out his hand.  Feeling more confident, his left hand joins with “Thunder!”

His attention is purely focuses on the piano, but he can tell the crowd is getting into it.  He even hears a joyful laugh escape Mr. Morningstar’s lips.  It’s not a classical or jazzy piece, but it’s something. 

As he flies through the song at a slightly faster beat than its original beat, Clark smiles.  When the song reaches the first breakdown, the crowd—at least the ones who seem to know what song he’s playing—yells “Thunderstruck.”

It’s the first time he’s played something upbeat since his parents died and he’s having a lot of fun with it.  Even as a memory of when his dad took him and Oliver to that AC/DC concert in Central City flashes through his mind, it only brings a smile to his face. 

As Clark ends the song with a flourish of his own, he thinks he’s starting to feel a glimmer of joy.  It’s not like he hasn’t smiled in the last year, but for once he thinks he might be able to remember the good times without shedding a tear.  Even if Oliver isn’t here to watch him play, Clark thinks he might be enjoying himself. 

 

***

 

Oliver can’t believe he’s doing this.  He stands on a rooftop across the street from the Queen Tower and all he feels is guilt.  The hands on the clocks mock and remind him that he really ought to be spending time with his brother right now.  He’s even ignored a few calls from Tess. 

He can’t think about those things right now.  What he needs to focus on is getting into that tower.  It’s ridiculous because he should be able to walk through those doors without being dragged off by security.  Why is he, Oliver Queen, being kept out of his dad’s old office in the loft?

Eventually, he decided that he’s going to have to do things his way.  Standing on this rooftop with the bow he received from Diana Prince, Oliver takes a moment to look down at his outfit.  Feeling like a kid dressing up for an early Halloween, Oliver is wearing a green hoody with the sleeves cut off and his black leather biker pants and combat boots.  He also has a black mask—which came from Clark’s old Zorro costume—tied around his eyes.  Those, along with his bow and quiver, make him feel like some stupid Robin Hood wannabe. 

 If Clark were here, he would undoubtedly laugh.  It’s a work in progress.

Oliver grabs the grapple gun and aims for a corner near of the clock faces.  He fires and waits for the hook to find its mark.  When it does, he secures his end and places his unstrung bow around the cable.  He stands on the ledge and looks down.   Busy traffic, people, and pavement flood his vision.  He’s done this before; why is he afraid all of the sudden? 

The last time he did this was on an island and underneath him was deep water. 

“Come on, Ollie, you can do this,” Oliver encourages himself.  With a deep breath, he lets his feet leave the ledge.  His heart is pounding out of his chest as he zips along the cable and he holds on for dear life.  Finally, it’s all over as he reaches Queen Tower and he lets go, landing shakily on the balcony.  He leans against the wall as he pants hard. 

“That wasn’t so bad,” he says, but he’s still shaking.  This is going to take some getting used to. 

Oliver finds the door leading out of the balcony and into his dad’s office.  This part of his office is below the loft with sits about halfway up the clock faces.  Oliver is grateful that the door leading to the balcony is unlocked and even more grateful that no security devices are attached to it.  This tower has no helicopter pad, so why would anyone expect an intruder from this high up?

Oliver reaches into his pocket and pulls out a carefully folded piece of paper.  He unfolded it and reads it.

_The truth and one of the secrets to Clark’s past are beyond our family_

 Oliver glances up from the message and looks around at the place.  It’s all the same with sheets covering everything.  He repeats the message to himself mentally.  Was his dad saying that whatever all this is are more important than their family?  When Oliver first read it, he was furious.  He wanted to scream at his parents for the idea that Clark being his brother, his _family_ , came second to whatever all this nonsense is.  When he grew tired of that, he hurt himself trying to figure out what the hell his dad was saying.  One of his dad’s assistants gave him the message shortly after he came back from the island and he hasn’t even told Clark about it.

He got distracted being happy to see his brother again.

Taking the opportunity to explore, Oliver delicately walks around.  He remembers his dad’s office having no cameras in it so he feels safe, but he doesn’t want to disturb anything if he can avoid it. 

He smiles as he looks at the display case showing copies of all his and Clark’s awards for archery, dance, and piano recitals.  All the originals are at the house, but their dad wanted to be reminded of his sons’ accomplishments wherever he was.

Moving on, Oliver carefully lifts one of the sheets on the wall and sees all the photographs of his family.  Tearfully, he glances at each of them.  One of them shows him and Clark at thirteen and seven respectively.  They had each other in a headlock with fierce, playful looks all over their faces.  More photos of him and his brother; Clark playing the piano at various ages; Oliver with his bows; Clark with his knives and eventually his bow; photos of their parents including ones from their wedding.  Oliver’s tears escalate into sobs at his eyes land on a picture of his family. 

It was Christmas of 1995.  His dad made everyone wear red and at a photo shoot, the photographer took a photo of them lying on a green sheet with their heads together, forming a circle of the four of them.  Carefully, Oliver lifts the photo from its place. 

As he studies it, a part of the message jumps out at him.  “Beyond our family,” he repeats.  With one hand still carefully holding the photo, Oliver uses his free hand to feel around the place where it was sitting.  His fingers find a button.  Excited, he presses it.  He hears a _click_ and watches as a hidden compartment rises out of the shelf that is cut out of the wall. 

It’s a safe.  Oliver scowls at the combination lock on it.  It could be any group of three numbers!  He tries his birthdate, doesn’t work.  Then Clark’s birthdate…then his dad’s…then his mother’s…then his parents’ anniversary.  Those were too obvious.  A photo of Clark as a three-year-old catches his eye.  A thought hits him.  The month, day, and year that Clark came into their lives!  He tries it and has to contain his excitement as his hears another _click_.  He pulls the safe open and without thinking, grabs everything in it. 

There were two things:  one was…his dad’s diary?  And the other was a lead box.  Delicately, Oliver opens the box.  It’s a crystal.  Judging by the markings on it, it triggers a memory.  He remembers his dad looking over all these documents with weird symbols on them.  The symbol on this crystal looks like an _8_ within a wedge.  Oliver remembers now.  His dad made him remember this three crystals and the symbols on them.  This one is Air! 

Making a mental note to tell Clark, Oliver closes the box and turns his attention to his dad’s diary.  Curious, he opens it and something falls out.  Oliver bends to pick it up and unfolds it. 

It’s a letter.

 

_Clark, or Oliver,_

_If you are reading this it means that I am dead.  I have gotten myself mixed up with some bad people and I’m afraid that it’s forfeited my life.  I was on to something; something incriminating that would destroy their company and its leader all at once.  I was looking into some very shady facilities under the codename 33.1, but I was discovered before I could find out any of the locations._

_In that box is one of the pieces that will help Clark reach his destiny.  I don’t know about the other two, but even alone they are quite powerful.  Many would like to get their hands them and use them for their own gain.  If someone other than Clark assembles them…you CANNOT let that happen!_

_Clark, I wish your mother and I could have lived to see you become everything you were meant to be.  Follow your instincts.  Don’t ever be afraid or ashamed of who and what you are.  You were the son I never asked for, but you mother and I love you and have loved you with all our hearts._

_Oliver, I pray that you read this.  If you are, then my heart sings with joy that you are alive.  You’ve always been a great brother to Clark.  You and I both know how powerful he is, but he’s not invincible.  Protect him.  Love him.  Be the brother to him that you’ve always have been.  I am sorry for the things I said to you before you disappeared.  I wish that we could have apologized to each other in person, but I forgave you a long time ago.  I would have traded my entire fortune if it meant seeing you one more time._

_My boys, you two are the best things in my life and your mother’s.  Don’t you two ever forget that!  And I have no doubt that whoever you two love in life, they will be lucky to have you._

_I love you_

_Your mother loves you_

_Your loving father,_

_Robert Queen_

Oliver drops the letter.  He hasn’t even realized that he had fallen to his knees a few minutes ago and now he’s sitting against the wall, sobbing quietly. 

“Dad, what did you get yourself into?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIP Malcolm Young 
> 
> Happy Thanksgiving!
> 
> To those who haven’t read American Gods, great book. One that I strongly recommend. To those who have, there will be some more references to it. Or at least a few concepts that are parallel to some of the themes of that book.


	10. Chapter Nine

_January 5 th, 1998_

_My family’s reaction to my forming a deal with Lionel Luthor went about as well as I’d expected.  The boys were confused and wondered why I did it.  They reminded me of all the times that I swore I would never cut a deal with the Luthors.  It made me laugh when Clark asked if I hypnotized into creating the merge between Lionel and I.  Laura and I got into a loud argument over the whole ordeal.  She was justifiably upset that I hadn’t discussed it with her.  I knew she would object, but I also knew that if I had discussed it with her, she would have successfully talked me out of it.  When we had the opportunity to talk about it in private, I calmly told her that it also came with the opportunity to see the things Lionel Luthor was up to._

_Laura smartly asked if I really thought that Lionel trusted me_ that _much.  Point taken, I’ll have to admit.  Even so, I told her that I barely trusted the man either, but it was an opportunity to try to ameliorate that lack of trust.  To build a certain trust to the point that I can monitor anything that might potentially threaten my family, in particular Clark.  When I told Laura that Lionel had stumbled on a few areas with the green meteor rock, she grew very worried.  I wouldn’t consider my wife to be an overbearing mother, but she can be fierce when protecting her children._

_I remember one time, a few years ago, a few burglars snuck onto our property.  Little did they realize Laura was up that night for a late-night snack.  The boys had fallen asleep in the loft above the garage and when Laura went up there to check on them, she saw a couple of the burglars.  When she saw that they were proceeding to…touch my sons, she became a wild animal.  I do own a few handguns, but none of them were near the loft, nowhere where one of the boys might get into them.  Laura grabbed the nearest thing she could find—one of Oliver’s twenty-pound dumbbells.  She didn’t kill those would-be child molesters, but she did do some damage._

_To some degree, I’m glad she got to them before Clark did.  I can happily say that as Clark has gotten older, he has been learning to control his temper.  I think the last time that he hit someone was when he was eight.  The poor kid cracked the brick wall.  Luckily, he wasn’t injured too badly._

_So, the thought of Lionel Luthor having things that could hurt Clark—even though I know for a fact that his supply is significantly smaller than mine—has Laura a bit high-strung._

_I also told Jonathan and Martha about my deal over dinner and they were very worried.  Jonathan knows me well enough that hearing that I did something so bold didn’t ruin our friendship in the slightest.  Later over beers, he would tell me that I was nuts.  I probably am._

_Finally, just yesterday, it was publicly announced that Queen Industries and LuthorCorp were merging to create a private shared sect.  I am not all for standing in front of cameras, but I indulged Lionel when he wanted a picture of the two of us shaking hands.  It was a symbolic gesture with potential for as much good as well as bad.  The media is having a field day with it.  It’s given my family new spotlight and I hate it.  What’s even worse is the fact that some of the tabloids are publishing stories about my children._

_Oliver is being both praised and scandalized for being accepted into Princeton.  Some praise him for being a high achiever; others exploit the fact that he’s going to a different college than my alma mater—Stanford.  They wonder if it born of some rebellious attitude, a way of stabbing me in the back.  No!  I never pressured him into choosing a certain college!  All I ever did was encourage him to do well in his studies, but I never tried to sway him in any way._

_Clark…the stories I have read about him make me want to shoot watermelons with Jonathan’s shotgun.  I’ve done it before and it’s quite therapeutic.  The tabloids are wondering why Clark is such a loner.  Why isn’t he as outgoing as Oliver?  Why isn’t he seen hanging out with other children of socialites?_

_I hope all this media attention blows over sooner than later._

_I don’t regret being Clark’s father, but I do regret the certain spotlight it sometimes gives him.  Being a Queen can be both a blessing and a curse.  The least I can do for both my sons is to make sure the former rings truer than the latter._

 

“You know Lois, if you would spend half as much time studying as you did begging to be back in college, you’d be in college,” Clark points out.

Lois scoffs and places her hands on her hips.  “And where did that sage advice come from, the confines of your ballet tights?  Who are you are trying to be anyway, some black-haired Patrick Swayze?”

Clark thinks about that for a minute.  Ever since she found out about his passion for ballet, Lois has been trying—without success—to rile him up by teasing him about it.  Eventually, he smiles.  “Sure, and are you, or do you have a perfect candidate to be my Jennifer Grey?  I’m sure that I can give them ‘the time of their life.’”

Lois blinks up at him several times.  “I don’t do ballet,” she hisses.  “Thankfully, nor does Chloe.”

Clark shrugs.  “She was a hell of a dance partner in our tango lessons.  And as much as I feel more comfortable having her for a dance partner than Lana, I’m okay with her not taking ballet.”

Lois continues to stare up at him like he’s some overgrown cretin.  As far as he can tell, she seems to think he should be doing more “manly” activities.  Why does there need to be gender labels on certain activities?  He’s already explained to her that his mother talked him into taking ballet.  At least she teases him about it only to a certain degree.  He thinks that maybe the fact that his parents are dead that it could be a reason why she’s careful about how she teases him.

Clark decides to change the subject.  “Is it just me, or have all the football guys have been shot by Cupid?”  It was weird enough when he saved Coach Teague from being killed with a shotgun by the starting quarterback, but it seems that it was barely the half of it. 

Lois takes a look around with him and takes in everything they see.  A couple of cheerleaders pass with football players carrying their stuff.  One larger football player has his arms being loaded with textbooks…that belong to the cheerleaders.  Another football player is holding a pocket mirror for his girlfriend…who also happens to be a cheerleader.  That one seems a little more innocent than the other ones, but given that it seems to suddenly be a revolving theme with the football players, it just makes it weird.  

“Wow, that’s a lot of over-feminism in one place,” Lois muses.

“That awkward moment when guys being the laborers are taken to new heights,” drawls Trixie who has come into view.  A small smile—one of the few emotions that Clark has seen out of her—spreads across her lips.  “Hi, Lois.”

“Trixie,” Lois greets back, smiling. 

In the last couple of weeks, it seems to Clark that they have steadily been becoming friends. 

“Well, I suggest we head to the Torch,” invites Clark.  Without waiting for Lois and Trixie, he heads to the Torch.  As he nears it, he hears laughter coming from inside.

“…so you’ve gone from being the devil, to being some nightclub proprietor, to being a police consultant…and now you’re both a guidance counselor and a coffeehouse proprietor?” asks Chloe’s incredulous voice. 

“Yes it’s all very true, Miss Sullivan,” replies…Mr. Morningstar as Clark rounds the corner and into the office. 

Clark stops at the sight before him.  Chloe and Mr. Morningstar are sitting on the couch together.  Chloe has her notebook out, busily taking notes and Mr. Morningstar is sitting tall with that annoying grin of his. 

“Ahem,” Clark grunts.

Chloe and Mr. Morningstar look up. 

“Oh, Mr. Queen, your friend Miss Sullivan here asked for an interview and I accepted,” explains Mr. Morningstar.  “And Miss Sullivan, you are a fine reporter if I do say so myself.  You have a long way to go, but yes very fine indeed.”

A very uncharacteristically girly giggle escapes Chloe’s throat.  “Thank you.”

“And earlier you told me that you were fired from the _Daily Planet_?” continues Mr. Morningstar.  “Dearie me, for such a prestigious newspaper, they are quite douchey.”

Everyone gapes at Mr. Morningstar’s choice of words.  Clark wholeheartedly agrees, but still…

“Luci, we are in a school,” Trixie enunciated. 

At the sound of her voice most likely, Mr. Morningstar turns his attention towards his stepdaughter.  What Clark sees next almost frightens him.  It’s the same devilish smile, but there is something…cold and stern about the look in his eyes. 

“Trixie, darling, just who I wanted to see,” Mr. Morningstar says, standing up and straightening his blazer.  “I hear you’ve been skipping classes.  I do not tolerate that.”  He’s clearly reprimanding Trixie, but he’s still smiling. 

Trixie seems unperturbed by it.  “If I attend those classes, will they still suck?”

Mr. Morningstar chuckles and Clark and Lois subtly back away as he closes some of the distance between him and Trixie.  “I don’t care whether you enjoy your classes or not,” he tells her quietly.  “What I do care about is your education and making sure your grades stay up.  What would your mother say if she were here?”

Trixie’s face turns cold as ice and Clark is starting to feel more and more uncomfortable by the minute.  This is clearly a family matter and he is stuck as a witness.  It seems that Mr. Morningstar wants it that way. 

“Don’t…bring up….Mom,” Trixie warns dangerously. 

Mr. Morningstar scoffs.  “As you wish; just attend your classes, keep your grades up—or at least make sure the reasons you’re failing are _not_ because you are skipping class or shirking your homework—and behave.”  His features turn gentler.  “I’ll buy you a chocolate cake from the best bakery in Metropolis if you attend all your classes this week.”

Now Trixie scoffs.  “You’re bribing now?”  She turns to head out of the Torch office, but stops before disappearing around the corner.  “Besides, I stopped liking chocolate cake a long time.”  Before she disappears, Clark thinks he sees a trace of sadness in her eyes. 

Mr. Morningstar chuckles nervously.  “Well, I am sorry Miss Sullivan, but we’ll have to finish that interview some other time.  Apparently I need to perform some damage control.  Have a nice day.”  He nods to Clark and Lois before walking out the door himself. 

“Well, that was awkward,” Lois says after a minute or two of silence.

“Did I hear you right, Chloe?” asks Clark, still staring towards the door.

“What?”

“Did Mr. Morningstar say he used to be the _devil_?” Clark clarifies.

Chloe laughs.  “My guess is as good as yours.  I don’t know if he is crazy or if he is just full of himself.”

“How about a bit of both?” suggests Lois.

“At least he seems to care about Trixie,” Clark points out.  “But that smile…”

“Aw, is Clarky worried that someone might actually have a hotter smile than him?”  teases Lois in a childlike voice.

Clark scowls at her and Chloe giggles. 

“Yeah, Clark, are you worried?”

Clark rounds on Chloe and shoots her a look that screams _Et tu, Brute?_   She just winks at him. 

“No ladies, I am not,” he argues slowly and clearly.  “There is just something really…off about him.”

“Don’t worry about it, Clark,” Chloe encourages, brushing off his concerns.  “What are more interesting are all these jocks that have seemed to go from bros to valets.”

Clark will admit that it’s got him wondering as well.  He’s not journalistically inclined all that much, but he has worked with Chloe in the Torch, if only so that she wouldn’t be so lonely.  “And I hear that the quarterback has been apologizing like crazy for what he did.  It’s like one minute he was in murder-mode and now he can’t understand why he did it.  I hope Pete hasn’t fallen victim.”

As if on cue, Pete comes walking into the Torch, with a bright, cheerful grin spread across his face.

“What’s up, my man?” he greets Clark, surprising him with a one-armed hug.

Clark exchanges looks with Chloe and Lois who look as disturbed by Pete’s cheerfulness as he feels.

“Pete,” Chloe starts nervously, albeit conversationally, “what’s got you in such a good mood?”

Pete’s grin widens to the point that he looks like a five-year-old who just walked into a candy store.  “I’m in love!” he replied giddily. 

Clark exchanges a look with Chloe and Lois.

“So which cheerleader has you for a valet?” asks Clark.

Pete rounds on him with a frown.  “Cheerleader?”

“Yeah, cheerleader,” Clark repeats.  “All your teammates seem to be following the cheerleaders around like puppies.” 

Seeming to have realized what he is talking about, Pete laughs.  “No, Clark, I’m not in love with any cheerleader.”

“So who’s the special lady?” asks Lois. 

Pete smiles again.  “Now that it going to have to wait; I still have to ask her out.”

Clark rolls his eyes and puts his hand against his friend’s forehead.  “Are you feeling okay?”

Now Pete rolls his eyes.  “I’m fine Clark,” he insists as he shoves Clark’s hand away.  “Just because this love train has left the station doesn’t mean I’m sick.”

“Sounds more like it’s jumped the tracks,” mutters Chloe. 

 _Maybe you shouldn’t have said that, Chlo_ , Clark thinks as Pete’s grin turns to a scowl.  Clark and Lois tense up apprehensively as Pete rounds on Chloe. 

“Just because you’re upset that your relationship with Clark is no longer where you want it to be doesn’t mean you have to spoil my chances,” he snaps. 

Now Clark is upset.  “Okay, Pete that was uncalled for and you know it.  Get out.”  He points towards the door calmly. 

Pete seems to still understand that it’s not a good idea to test him.  With a scoff he heads out the door. 

After watching him leave, Clark turns to Chloe.  He doesn’t think he needs to know her as well as he does to know that she’s suppressing a few tears.  With a sigh, he advances to offer a hug, but she holds a hand out. 

“Clark, just leave me alone,” she says quietly.  “You too, Lo.  I have to go interview the assistant coach.”  Before anyone can stop her, she grabs her notebook and heads out the door.

Clark and Lois exchange glances.

Lois throws up her hands.  “What’s going on around here?”

 

***

 

There is something oddly enjoyable about watching football practice from the bleachers.  Once upon a time, Lana was one of those girls in cheer skirts, waving pompoms and practicing routines.  That might have been one of the first completely independent decisions she made in her life. 

The voice in her head definitely won’t shut up about how violent and exploitive football and cheerleading are respectively.  If Lana will be honest with herself, she agrees on both points. 

She pays close attention to the plays that the football players perform, but mostly her attention is focused on Jason who is currently being interviewed by Chloe.  She isn’t sure if Jason has coached before, but he seems to know what he is doing.  The football players themselves seem to have accepted him as one of their coaches.  At least other than that quarterback who tried to blast him with a shotgun.

While she was inspecting a bruise he had gotten, Jason told her that one minute he was discussing plays with that quarterback and the next, the quarterback was accusing him of hitting on his girlfriend—the cheerleader, Mandy. 

Lana remembers Mandy.  Blonde, cute, and painfully superficial, Mandy always got on Lana’s nerves.  She was also one of the cheerleaders who mocked Lana for quitting the cheerleading squad freshman year.

Lana watches Mandy now with her…minions as they carry the Gatorade cooler out onto the sidelines.  What is it with them and that Gatorade the last few days?  What was it with these football players following them around like slaves?

 _Hmm, there was a time when a woman would kill to be worshipped by men like that_ , muses the voice in her head.  _Yet even today it seems most men are just domineering slime treating women like lesser beings._

“Shut up!” Lana whispers harshly.     

“Who are you telling to shut up?”

Lana jumps and her eyes fall on Pete Ross standing over her in his football gear.

“God, Pete, you scared me!” she exclaims, massaging her chest as her heart pounds.

“Sorry, Lana,” Pete apologizes a little too earnestly.

 _Oh dear, he better not start crying_ , moans the voice in Lana’s head.  She has to agree.  “It’s okay, Pete,” she tells him quickly.  The last thing she needs is for him to start groveling.

Pete lets out a sigh of relief.  “Oh, good.  Hey, listen, I was wondering, do you want to go grab a cup of coffee sometime?”

Lana giggles. “Are you asking me out?”

Pete’s eyes light up and surprisingly Lana finds it kind of adorable.  “Um, yeah,” he confirms.  “What do you say?”

Lana hesitates.  She’s in a committed relationship.  Should she tell him?  He will wonder who she’s dating.  Dating Jason Teague is something that she wishes she didn’t have to lie about.  Would Pete understand?  Would he report him to the principal?  Worse yet, in the last few weeks since school began, the guidance counselor, Mr. Morningstar keeps giving her strange looks at odd times.  Usually those times are strangely after she’s had a rendezvous with Jason…both in and out of school. 

 _At least no laws are being broken by spending time with this boy_ , the voice points out in a rare moment of helpfulness.

“Um, Pete I’d love to, but…”

“Ross!”  Pete turns around and sees Jason standing not far from him with his arms crossed over his chest.  “Unless you are quitting the football team, I suggest you leave the young lady alone.”

 _Subtle, Teague,_ both the voice and Lana’s own thoughts mock.  Could he not have said it in such a way that didn’t make him sound like a jealous boyfriend?

“Chill, Coach!” Pete fires back.  “I’m still on the team, but that doesn’t mean I can’t talk to an old friend of mine.”  He walks past Jason, whose eyes follow him with deadly focus.

“Was he bothering you, Miss Lang?” asks Jason.  It still feels weird hearing him call her that.

“No, Coach Teague,” she assures him.  More softly she asks, “What’s going on?  You’re going to get us both in trouble!”

Just as softly, Jason replies, “I don’t know.  I just don’t like the idea of other guys hitting on you.”

Lana glares up at Jason.  “Pete is friend,” she declares firmly.  “If I have friends who happen to be guys, I will talk to them, hang out with them, and share coffee with them as I please.”

Jason gapes at her and he almost looks tearful.  _When did he become such a jealous man?_ the voice wonders.  Lana wonders that too.

“What the hell is going on?” Lana wonders out loud.

 

***

 

Oliver has made a mess of the dining room table.  It was difficult, but with the help of Tess, who to his surprise has connections within Queen Industries, he had acquired a number of his dad’s records.  Business transactions; trade agreements; financial records; stuff specifically pertaining to the company’s partnership with LuthorCorp…all spread out to the point that the mahogany finish of the table is all but gone.  Clark is a lot more organized than he is.  Clark would have made an effort of placing what was what in separate piles.  He would be able to point to each pile and tell what they were.

Oliver isn’t organized like that.  Papers that don’t give him any of the answers that he’s looking for get tossed aside unceremoniously.  The stacks he does have are papers that he hasn’t gone over yet. 

The transactions dealing with the partnership with LuthorCorp are very few.  What he is finding are dealings associated with stuff like weapons development—something his mother, a staunch pacifist was always against even if it is a money pit—developments in medical equipment, some other miscellaneous endeavors, and not to mention some of both companies’ charity works.   Oliver has gone through all of it three times and he hasn’t found anything even resembling a so-called “33.1.”

Whatever 33.1 is, it’s abundantly clear that there are no records of it.  Oliver is hoping that it’s because it’s a secretive program.  That the reason there are no written documents about it is because the companies wanted it to stay silent.  His dad stumbled on some information about it, so Oliver figures that there has to be some sort of written documents somewhere.  Maybe those same documents were destroyed after his dad was discovered.  Perhaps any and all record of 33.1 was destroyed and either people know everything about it, or they nothing about it. 

The rational part of Oliver suspects that that’s the most likely option. 

“Oliver?”

Oliver jumps so violently that papers fly everywhere.  “Damn it, Lois!”                 

Lois throws up her hands in surrender.  “Sorry, Oliver, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Oliver sighs.  “It’s okay, Lois; it seems that I needed it anyway.”

Lois chuckles.  She scans the dining room table with wide eyes.  “Are you taking over your company?”

“Someday,” replies Oliver.  “I was hoping to go to college first.”

Lois nods thoughtfully as she takes a seat in one of the chairs closest to him.  “That makes two of us I guess.”

Oliver smiles knowingly.  “How is high school treating you?”

Lois grumbles.  “I hated it before and I hate it now.  I just want to go back to college.”

“I’m just trying to get Princeton to call me back,” Oliver adds with a grumble of his own.  “I’m hoping that my unplanned vacation on a deserted island won’t keep me from attending.”

“They’d be assholes for keeping you out of Princeton for that reason,” mutters Lois. 

Oliver cocks his head at her and she winks at him.   _When was the last time I actually got to talk to someone as a friend like that?_   Better yet, when was the last time he had a friend?

He doesn’t see himself dating her, but he does feel that she understands him in ways Tess doesn’t.

“Well, I don’t have drink, but here’s to hoping we both get our wish,” he says.

A toothy grin spreads across Lois’s face.  “Get me a soda and I’ll drink to that,” she agrees. 

Oliver laughs as he gets up from his chair and heads to the kitchen.  “Oh, and where’s Clark?” he calls back.

“I thought I saw him head up to the loft with his homework,” replies Lois.  “Oh, and Martha Kent called.  She was hoping to come over with Jonathan and their daughter with dinner.”

Oliver’s face melts.  “Call her back and tell her yes.  I’ll clean my mess.”  He’d make Clark do it, but at least for right now, he doesn’t want his brother involved in his investigations.  He hasn’t even given Clark that stone.  He just wants him to focus on school.

Oliver hopes that doesn’t come back to haunt him.


	11. Chapter Ten

_April 13 th, 1998_

_Easter is a fun time for my family.  For almost as long as my family has lived in Smallville, we’ve had a certain tradition for Easter.  The boys love their Easter egg hunts and back in…1991 I believe, Jonathan and I started this little activity at his farm.  There are a lot of uses for cornfields—mazes, artwork, the crops themselves, and I’ve even seen some of the local boys paintballing.  Sometimes, I’ve let the boys go paintballing._

_One of the uses that I indulge is Easter egg hunts.  Jonathan and I don’t utilize his entire farm of course, but every year we use a few acres—we never use the same ones two years in a row—to hide Easter eggs.  Since it was quite possible for Easter eggs and baskets to get lost in the foliage, we always use larger eggs and brighter colored ones.  Part of the activity is that we time the boys to see who can find all their Easter eggs first.  Since Clark has superspeed, his search area is considerably larger than Oliver’s._

_Even with his superspeed, we’ve made certain that the chances of him beating his brother are fifty-fifty.  This is the first time in three years that he’s beaten his brother.  Even if Laura and I have been teaching him to be humble, it barely stopped Clark from doing a little victory dance.  Oliver was happy for his brother—justifiably jealous, but happy for him.  Laura stopped Clark before he got carried away rubbing his victory in his brother’s face._

_Martha Kent is…something else in the kitchen and this year she tried something new.  She bakes a lot of old family recipes handed down by both her family and Jonathan’s family, but she does experiment sometimes.  This year, she tried making homemade chocolate bunnies.  A few weeks ago, Laura ordered her some bunny-shaped chocolate molds.  I can tell she was very nervous about how her bunnies would turn out._

_They turned out quite well.  It was definitely a recipe she ought to keep._

_Easter eggs are an interesting thing.  There are the Easter eggs people fill with candy and cash and gift cards if they are big enough.  Then there are figurative Easter eggs, the name that people give to hidden messages in anything in pop culture media.  Sometimes I catch my sons finding Easter eggs in the movies they watch together.  Oliver, being the bigger comic book fan, sometimes looks for Easter eggs in his comic books._

_I’m a businessman.  I like to believe that I make an effort to be a legitimate businessman.  As a result, I tend to look for Easter eggs of my own.  It was actually Oliver and Jonathan who came up with the idea of calling them “Easter eggs.”  The Easter eggs I hunt for are signs of corruption in my business, and more recently, LuthorCorp.  It’s a challenge and I have a network of people in my business that I trust the most who hunt for these Easter eggs within their respective areas.  I am happy to say that thanks to them, I have been able to keep my business relatively clean._

_Now that I am partnered with Lionel, those hunters I call them, have their work cut out for them.  They work as diligently as they can and even if their hunts don’t always bear fruit—or in this case Easter eggs—they have all more than earned their large salaries._

_Until recently, my partnership with Lionel has been relatively uneventful.  A lot of discussions that really lead to nowhere, business proposals that we can’t seem to agree on, arguments that sometimes end in shouting matches…I still question why I signed the contract._

_One of the biggest topics of our arguments is our conflicting views of the green meteor rocks.  Lionel sees them as a lucrative investment; I consider them dangerous and not just because they can harm my son.  I have been so caught up in trying to hoard as much of the green, now red, more recently blue, meteor rocks that I am not sure that I have fully considered the consequences._

_Some of my people have come to me with cases of workers who have come down with serious illnesses.  I have seen muscle spasms, seizures, and the tremors of Parkinson’s disease, but some of the cases I’ve seen…  Apparently it’s from prolonged exposure to the meteor rocks.  The seizures I’ve witnessed, they are so bad that, so violent, so…inhuman that medically induced comas can barely suppress them._

_It’s made me much more aware of the dangers of the meteor rocks.  As a result, I have sealed every cache where I have meteor rocks stored.  I have tightened security and have made access to those caches much more restricted.  It did mean having to downsize a bit, but I tried to place those people elsewhere without having to terminate them from Queen Industries.  Those who are required to handle meteor rocks on a more regular basis, they have been required to wear radiation suits._

_Strangely enough, I suggested that same idea to Lionel Luthor.  I have learned to lie to him a long time ago and I believe I was able to convince him that I was as ignorant as he was.  I merely brought up the fact that we don’t know much about these rocks and how the radiation emanating off of them could affect people.  It ended up being one of the first decisions in the last four months that we have been able to agree upon._

_However, a few days ago in one of our board meetings, Lionel suggested something that I am not sure I agree with._

_He has proposed a way of using the meteor rocks to improve both our companies’ weapons development programs.  I hate the idea._

_There’s no way of expressing that without causing an argument.  Then again, it could be an opportunity for me and my people to hunt for Easter eggs._

If seeing the football players follow the cheerleaders around, Coach Teague almost getting killed, and Pete appearing to have been hit by a Cupid arrow weren’t all enough, this has to be the weirdest.  Clark was just coming up to the loft with his homework like he normally does and he found Chloe. 

He did see her Beetle parked not far away, now that he thinks of it.  She sits there on one of the couches, grinning as he steps into the loft.  Clark’s eyes roam without meaning to and he can tell that she is wearing nothing underneath that silk buttoned-down shirt of his.  To make things more…difficult, it’s unbuttoned far enough that the hills of her breasts are abundantly visible.  He’s pretty sure that from the right angle, if she were to lift the fabric of the shirt just a little, that her nipple would be visible.   

“Chloe, what’s going on?” he asks innocently.

Instead of a verbal response, Chloe’s smile broadens and she pats the space next to her on the couch.  Not knowing what else to do, Clark closes the distance between them, sets his schoolwork down on the coffee table and sits down next to Chloe, putting a respectable distance between them.

“So, I was doing some thinking and I think I know why our relationship didn’t work out,” says Chloe.

Clark raises his eyebrows.  _We’ve been over this_ , he thinks.  “And why is that?”

“I was too focused on being a journalist,” replies Chloe as if it is the most obvious thing in the world.  “I think that it’s time I quit the Torch.  Who needs it really?”

Now Clark knows something is off.  Chloe giving up journalism would be like Lionel Luthor giving up a life of scheming, even from within prison.  Clark sighs patiently.  “Chloe, I’ve told you several times that I forgave you for digging into my life behind my back.  You don’t have to give up journalism.  I don’t _want_ you to give up journalism.”

Chloe cocks her head at him.  When she doesn’t say anything, he continues.

“What I’d really like to know is why you’re my loft, in nothing but one of my favorite shirts,” he says patiently.  He’s trying very hard to focus on her eyes and not let his eyes roam over her body.  Already, he feels his pants tightening up as all blood rushes to his groin.  He’s always had trouble resisting her, if he will be honest with himself. 

“I want to focus more on you,” explains Chloe.  _God, why do those green eyes have to be so captivating?_   “I would do anything for you Clark.  Things I didn’t do for you before.” 

Clark raises his eyebrows.  “Like what?” 

Chloe reaches out with a soft hand and places it against his chest.  “Things to relieve your stress.”  Then, ever so slowly, her hand begins to slide downward, pushing aside his blazer and touching him in a gentle…loving manner. 

“Chloe…” he protests weakly.  Her hand continues to slide downward and the tips of her fingers graze the bulge in his pants.  Quickly, he grabs her hand and lifts it away from him.  He pats her hand, checking to see if she’s feverish or something of the sort.  “Are you feeling okay?  I thought we agreed that we’d take things slow.”

“I’ve never felt happier,” replies Chloe.  Before Clark can stop her, she closes the distance between them and straddles his lap.  Now he really has to fight the urge to tear that shirt off of her.  “Clark, don’t you see?  I’m devoted to you.  I love you Clark.”  Her hands slide up his shoulders and she captures his lips in a wet kiss. 

With no input from his brain, his hands settle on her bare legs.  He forgot how soft those legs were.  Mostly from the sensation of his hands, even if he’s not squeezing her legs, a moan rises out of Chloe and rumbles into his mouth.  She lifts her lips away from his and begins marking up the side of his neck with her lips and tongue.  He forgot how good that felt too.

A memory pops into his head of sophomore year, when Chloe was infected with a parasite and he had a sliver of red kryptonite shoved into his pants.  The wild kisses, their hands touching and exploring everywhere, making out in the Talon.  They were both topless before Clark was knocked out by a blow to the head with a chunk of green kryptonite by his father.

Chloe ended up not remembering anything of the incident, but Clark left out none of the details.  Eventually, since she was so curious, it led to a bit of reenactment…in more private settings.  That time however, in this very loft, they lost _all_ of their clothes and Clark ended up losing his virginity.  Chloe knew everything about him by that point and, somehow being with her made him trust himself more.  Plus, he might have coaxed a bit of sex education out of the bodiless entity of his biological father. 

As much as Clark is finding himself enjoying the sensations Chloe is creating, his better judgment kicks in.  He manages to lift one of his hands away from her thigh and places it against her chest, pushing her away.

Chloe gazes at him, confused.  “What’s wrong, Clark?” her voice is husky and has dropped to a deep contralto, almost like a purr. 

Clark shakes his head.  “Chloe, you’re gorgeous, but this is wrong.”  Even as he speaks, she wiggles against his hand, shifting herself until his hand is against her breast. 

“Yes,” Chloe agrees with a moan.  “Yes, terribly wrong.” 

Clark can’t tell if she’s being serious or not, but then she begins rubbing against him.  He’d like to give in to her, but Chloe wouldn’t pull a one-eighty on him like this.  They agreed to take things slow.  This is not slow.  This is taking things at the rate of a speeding bullet, or maybe even the rate that he can run.  Clark lifts both of his hands, this time placing them against Chloe’s waist and lifting her off of him completely.  He gets up before she can pounce on him again.

Now Chloe’s eyebrows scrunch upward into a frown.  “Clark, is there something I did wrong?” 

Clark doesn’t answer her question immediately as he begins to pace.  “What’s gotten into you, Chloe?” he demands, a little too sharply.

Chloe gapes at him.  “I love you,” she says quietly, repeating her words from earlier.  “I just wanted to show it.  Did I make a mistake?  Do you think I’m ugly?” the questions are so genuine that Clark hesitates with his answers.  He doesn’t think she is ugly!  She knows that, or at least she should.  To make matters worse, she looks ready to cry. 

 _Oh, for heaven’s sake_.  Clark walks over to her and sits down next to her again.  For a second he thinks he should have been more tentative about doing so, but when Chloe doesn’t pounce on him again, he relaxes. 

“Chloe, of course I don’t think you’re ugly,” he clarifies.  “A few minutes ago, I told you that you were gorgeous.”

“Yet when I throw myself at you, tell you that I’m devoted to you, you tense up,” Chloe points out.  “Is my hair too short?  Is my nose too long?  Are my breasts too small?  Do I have bad breath?  Do I have too many freckles?  Do I...?”

“Chloe,” Clark interrupts, cupping her face and gently forcing her to look him in the eye.  He searches her face.  _What’s gotten into her?_   “Chloe, you know I don’t think you’re ugly and there is _nothing_ wrong with you.”  _Except, maybe right now_ , which he doesn’t add.  “Come here, Chlo.”  He pulls her into a hug and she settles her head against his shoulder. 

“Maybe we can try this again sometime,” he says after a few minutes. 

Chloe looks up at him, a smile playing at her lips.  Clark doesn’t know if he’s being serious or not, but he doesn’t like seeing her cry either if he can help it. 

“The Kents are coming over for dinner,” he tells her.  “Why don’t you put your clothes on and join us?”

That smile breaks through and before he can stop her, she reaches behind his head and pulls him down for another kiss.  Then she gets up and proceeds to take that shirt off right in front of him. 

“I’ll give you some privacy,” Clark says quickly, although he does catch a glimpse of her naked rear before he exits the loft.  “Damn, why does she have to be so gorgeous?” he mutters to himself.

 

Clark headed out to see that Jonathan and Martha have already arrived.  He guessed that after having taken care of him all last year, they still worry about his wellbeing.  He loves them for it.  They are not his parents, but they have long since earned their right to be considered family.  As he stepped into the house, Martha was the first to greet him. 

Clark pulled her into a hug, addressing her as “Aunt Martha” as he always had.  Maybe he didn’t give her enough credit last year while he was grieving, but she’s the closest thing he has to a mother these days.  Being so busy with school and wanting to be near his brother as much as possible, he hasn’t seen Martha or Jonathan much since school even began.  He apologized for that, but Jonathan quickly brushed off his apology. 

He deserves to spend time with his brother after Oliver having been missing for five years.  Although, Jonathan also said that whenever he’s available, that he could use the help at the farm.  Clark gave him his word that he would come over whenever he wasn’t busy and Oliver did as well. 

A few minutes later, Chloe came in, wearing the same pink crop top with lazy shoulders, jean jacket and cargo pants she had been wearing earlier that day.  On the upside, Clark was happy to see that she didn’t appear to be upset any longer.  However, she stayed very close to him.  Throughout the evening, she was barely more than five feet from him. 

Over dinner, which consisted of one of Martha’s meat pies and then cookies for dessert, Jonathan and Martha asked about Lois.

They wanted to know if she happened to receive a call from MetU.  Lois sadly answered no, but she’s hopeful.  Clark is hopeful too.  It will be quite liberating being able to live without her teasing him all the time.  The Kents also asked how she liked living with Clark and Oliver.

Clark subtly exchanged glances with his older brother.  Clark thinks that they have been respectable roommates.  They never lay a hand on her.  They respect her space.  Her apparent need for beauty sleep is also respected.  Clark could tell that his brother was as worried as he was about what Lois’ answer was going to be.

When Lois did finally come up with a reply, she told the Kents that the Queens are very respectable.  In fact, she went so far to say that living with them was “boring.”  Clark and Oliver exchanged vexed looks.  They can’t be _that_ boring, can they?

Chloe came to their defense—or more likely just Clark’s defense—saying that Lois was being difficult.  Clark made no effort hiding his smile as Chloe told Jonathan and Martha about the other weekend when they got together for video games in the loft.  Lois, being an avid gamer, took turns playing the Xbox with her.  Oliver had never played _Halo_ before, so he was excusably dreadful.  Clark and Chloe did pretty well, but Lois…she’s a beast!  Even so, they all had a good time.  Plus, Lois’ friend, Trixie Morningstar came by and they invited her to play with them as well.  She got there just in time to share pizza with all of them. 

As Chloe shared that story, Clark and Oliver took pleasure in Lois’s grumbles.  Is she really that stubborn that she can’t admit when she has a good time?  Or was she just trying to vex them?

It was nice that she came to their defense, but she was leering at Clark a bit too much.  Everyone else seemed to notice too.  Oliver didn’t say anything, but Clark could tell that he was teasing him.  Lois, on the other hand, appeared apprehensive. 

By the time everyone left, Chloe blew Clark a kiss as she left.  Afterwards, before Clark went to be, Lois confronted him.

She wanted to know what the hell he had down to her cousin.  Chloe came on to him!  He left out the things that happened in the loft, but Lois still seemed apprehensive.  When he got Lois to stop looking at him like she wanted to shoot him, they sat down and talked about it. 

It was clear that there was something wrong with her.  Then Lois brought up how all the football players were acting, how Pete was acting.  It was quite possible that the same thing happened to Chloe.  Clark urged Lois to let him go to bed, but promised that they would look into it tomorrow.

 

When the next day came, things only grew weirder. 

Clark guessed that one benefit of Chloe being “devoted” to him is that she didn’t quit the Torch.  He knows that she loves that paper and that she’s put so much time and effort into it.  Taking advantage of her penchant for sleuthing, Clark convinced her to help him and Lois look into what was causing the football players to act so strangely.

Mr. Morningstar overheard the conversation and offered his help.  Clark could tell that he was very amused by all of it, but he offered to help anyway.  Mr. Morningstar brought up how he was once a police consultant and so he has some experience with sleuthing.  Plus, he said that Trixie was acting in a similar fashion to how the football players were. 

Clark didn’t know why, but he found himself worrying what Mr. Morningstar would do to whoever was responsible. He declined his help, but made sure Mr. Morningstar knew he appreciated the offer.  

When Clark met up with Lois on the football field, she showed him something.  She said she stole it from the cheerleader, Mandy.  It was some paper about a “Love Molecule.”  Apparently it works like a love potion, but it was hypothetical.  How were they able to get it to work?

While they were brainstorming, Clark saw something else.  A fight broke out.  When Clark and Lois got a little closer, to Clark’s horror, he saw that it was between Pete and Coach Teague.  It wasn’t a well-mannered fight either.  Besides the punches and kicks, Clark saw some bites, some pokes to the eyes, and the twisting of ears. They seemed more like animals!  Clark stepped in and helped pry Pete off of the assistant coach while a few others pried Teague away from him.  According to several witnesses, it was Coach Teague who initiated the fight. 

Clark couldn’t completely make out what they were screaming about to each other, but it sounded like they thought the other was hitting on his girl.  Does Pete have a girlfriend that Clark doesn’t know about?  And why would he be worried about the assistant coach “macking on his girl” as he put it?  Why would the coach—who shouldn’t be dating girls Pete’s age—be worried about Pete hitting on _his_ girlfriend?

Pete was hauled off to the principal’s office before Clark could demand what had gotten into him.  Who could be so special that he would _bite_ someone over them?  Or “pull a Mike Tyson” over them, as Lois put it?

Then Trixie came up and started talking to Lois.  Trixie did look quite pretty, Clark though.  Her hair was draped around her shoulder in a French braid and she wore a silk twill buttoned shirt under her leather jacket.  Her jeans were looser than normal and the cuffs obscured most of her black Converse-covered feet.  If Clark were to tell the truth, it seemed a lot more relaxed than her usual, more…posh manner of dress.  Usually, it seemed that she patterned her style of dress to her stepfather, Mr. Morningstar.

She had an awkward time getting it out, but Trixie asked Lois if she would like to go out for ice cream sometime.  Clark turned to Lois expectantly.  She seemed nervous.  Clark wondered if it was because she was being asked out by a girl, or if it was because she was being asked out at all.  Clark has only known her for a few weeks, but she hasn’t come off as the homophobic type.  Then again, Trixie’s intentions might not be romantic at all.  She might just want to share an ice cream with her friend.

Lois was hesitant, but she said no as gently as she could.  She said she would like to some time, but she had a lot going on at the moment.  _Like what?_ Clark wanted to snap.

Trixie was clearly upset about it.  To make matters worse, she trapped Clark in an accusatory gaze. 

“Okay, well I guess we’ll try some other time then,” she said before stalking off.

Lois walked off before Clark could reproach her.  He went over to the cooler to grab some Gatorade.  When he took a sip of the Gatorade, he wished he hadn’t.  As soon as he swallowed the green liquid, his insides starting twisting and constricting and it brought him to his knees.  _What is in that?_ Clark screamed in his head.  He was just happy that school was over.

He drove home and barely made it through the door. 

Oliver, who had Tess over to help him with his SAT preps, saw him and grew very worried.  Clark shook off his concerns and just pulled the first thing that he could grab out of the freezer.  He lifted his shirt and pressed the bag of frozen peas to his stomach.  The pressure drove a moan out of him. 

“I think I’m going to go into the loft and lie down,” Clark says. 

“Food allergies?” asks Tess.

Clark almost smiles at the genuine concern in her voice and her eyes.  Between this and how shrewd she appears to be based on how she discusses the SATs as well as business with Oliver, Clark can see why his brother likes her.  He also wonders if Oliver would be struggling with staying a faithful boyfriend if it weren’t for his interventions.  

Oliver always had trouble being a faithful boyfriend, but since coming home, Clark has seen improvement in him. 

“It’s something like that,” Clark replies, honestly.  “It might have been something in what I drank.  I think I just need to sleep it off.”

Oliver smiles knowingly.  He claps his brother on the shoulder gently.  “You go do that, buddy.”

Clark painfully trudges out of the house towards the garage.  He sees Chloe’s car again.  Rolling his eyes, he continues towards the loft.  He heads up the stairs and his nose is hit with a bunch of…delicious smells. 

“Chloe, I’m not in the mood,” he calls up after her.  However, as he reaches the top of the stairs and looks into the loft, he sees Chloe is—thankfully—fully dressed.  She’s wearing tight-fitting jeans, a sleeveless blouse unbuttoned far enough for him to see that she’s wearing no bra and high-heeled boots.  She also has a butterfly hairclip over her left ear.  He sighs.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

Chloe’s eyes light up as that painfully beautiful smile spreads across her face.  “I realized that I came onto you a little too strong last night and I just wanted to make up for it.  I brought Thai takeout.”  Clark knew he recognized the smells.  Last night it was ridiculous; tonight it’s just pitiful.  She’s genuinely trying to impress him, but this is still too much, too fast.  Then again, he doesn’t want that Thai takeout to go to waste.

“Clark, what happened to you?” she demands, rushing over and inspecting his stomach.

“I don’t know,” replies Clark.  “I sipped some of the Gatorade at the football field and…I think it has kryptonite in it.”  An epiphany hits him.  “Chloe, I think the cheerleaders are drugging the football players with some sort of love molecule and it has kryptonite in it.”  It could also be what’s wrong with her. 

Chloe considers that.  “You’re right,” she agrees and soon her face darkens.  “Those bitches hurt you.”

Clark’s eyes widen.  “Now, please let’s not start planning any murderous rampages here,” he pleads.  “Let’s just sit down and enjoy this Thai food?”

Chloe is seething and he doesn’t blame her.  Thankfully, though, she calms down enough to sit down, but not before she helps him down onto the floor beside the coffee table.  “Your insides must feel like a meat grinder,” she comments sympathetically.  “Do you want me to rub your back?”

Not that that wouldn’t feel great, but… “No thanks,” Clark replies.  He hears a clatter downstairs.  His hearing isn’t as good as it should be due to the kryptonite in his system, but he can hear well enough to know that there’s somebody on his property who shouldn’t be.  “I think someone is in the garage; stay here Chloe.”

“No!” she snaps so suddenly that Clark jumps.  “Clark, you’re obviously weakened by this kryptonite.  No offense, but right now you can barely defend yourself.”

Clark gazes into her green eyes full of wild energy.  She’s in no position to be argued with.  Before he can stop her, she jumps to her feet and heads downstairs to the garage.  Not long after that, he starts hearing some shouting, cries, and clatters.  With a wince, Clark rises to his feet and trudges weakly towards the stairs.  When he reaches them, he trips and then tumbles down the stairs. 

“No idea that could so much,” Clark says tightly, squeezing his eyes against the pain everywhere.  Then, weirdly a bead of something green falls from his nose and he feels a surge of energy as his strength returns. 

Not taking any time to wonder what just happened, Clark rises to his feet and observes what’s happening before him.  Chloe and—Trixie?—are engaged in a nasty fight.  Clark is worried about them hurting each other, but he’s also worried about the cars. 

“He’s trying to steal Lois from me!” screams Trixie.

“No, I’m not,” Clark protests quietly.

“You’re trying to hurt my man!” Chloe fires back dangerously.  “I _won’t let that happen_!”  Then Clark sees her pick up a large wrench from the tool stand. 

Clark’s eyes widen.  “I’m so sorry about this, Chloe,” he mumbles.  He focuses his eyes on the wrench and activates his heat vision.  The wrench becomes so hot, it turns red and Chloe drops it as she yells in pain.  Trixie tries to pick up the wrench, but it’s still too hot and she screams as well.  Now that both girls have dropped to the ground, Clark rushes over to see what is going on. 

“Are you two okay?” he asks. 

Chloe is the first to respond.  “Clark?  What happened?”

Another epiphany hits Clark.  The heat, it pulls people out of the love haze.  He needs to tell Lois. 

“What the hell is going on here?” speak of the devil; there’s Lois’ shouting voice now. 

Clark turns towards the door to the garage and sees her standing there with her hands on her hips.  He smiles.  “Oh nothing, just taking care of a pest control problem.”

Now they need to deal with all the pests in football jerseys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really don't know what brought up the whole Easter egg analogy. It just popped into my head. Hope you all enjoyed! More chapters this weekend!


	12. Chapter Eleven

_May 30 th 1998,_

_Oliver graduated Smallville High a week ago.  To say that I am proud of him would be a massive understatement.  I do believe I shed more than a few tears when I watched him accept his diploma on that nice sunny afternoon.  Graduated with the third highest GPA and in September he is heading off to Princeton.  He could have had higher scores, but he did his best.  I’m not overly concerned about him being the best of the best so long as he does his best.  He did his best and I am extremely proud of him._

_Oliver could very well have been graduating from Excelsior with Lex Luthor, where they have higher grading standards.  If there was ever a time when I would have felt ashamed of sending my sons to a public school system surrounded by farmland, instead of a highly prestigious and respected boarding school…those feelings all disappeared long ago.  These days, I could very well stick my middle finger into the face of that school and all those who did and still ostracize me for making that decision._

_Lex graduated as valedictorian, having some of the highest test scores that Excelsior has ever had.  When I offered Lionel my congratulations, he claimed that Lex didn’t do as well as he could have.  I didn’t voice my thoughts, but Lionel Luthor is way too hard on his son.  I fear that if he keeps up his parenting methods, Lex is likely to not turn into a very decent person.  Now abusive parenthood doesn’t turn someone a bad person, but it can happen._

_I really don’t think that Lionel gives Lex enough credit in life.  Lex has a long way to go, but times when I have had opportunities to interact with him he has shown himself to be very adroit.  He’s a skillful opponent at chess.  I don’t consider myself a skilled player of chess; my skillsets are better suited for being a businessman and convincing people to see things the way I do._

_Lex has the potential to be a good person, a better person that could give Luthor a good name.  I just pray to God that he doesn’t mess things up for himself._

_Clark seemed a bit more glum than necessary about his brother graduating.  Clark and Oliver are fiercely loyal to each other, but sometimes I think that they forget that they can survive a little bit of time away from each other.  Clark is twelve now and he is very capable of taking care of himself, but Oliver still has a habit of being overprotective of him._

_A nervous habit that Oliver developed, sometimes he bites his nails when Clark starts to do something that worries him.  Clark can make Oliver worry simply by going out and having fun with Chloe and Pete without him mollycoddling him.  It is times like those that Laura and I must remind him that there’s a difference between being protective and smothering his brother.  It’s understandable; Clark is an extraordinary young man and sadly he has to restrain himself._

_He’s a spirited young man, yet those who know him best can see the restraint in everything he does.  I believe his friends, such as Chloe and Pete see it as well, but I don’t feel that either of them are ready to know all the reasons why._

_“Man is born free, and everywhere he is in chains.” –Jean-Jacques Rousseau_

_Of course, that was the opening statement to his_ Social Contract _which is an amazing—and incredibly boring—piece of literature arguing Rousseau’s views on what government should look like, but it’s a hell of a quote._

_Clark is free—he should be free—yet he can’t show who he really is.  Laura imagines Clark will someday show the world who he is, but at the same time, the world will not know him as Clark Queen.  Maybe I’m selfish, but I don’t want the world seeing Clark exactly the way me, my wife, his brother, and hopefully whoever Clark loves in life the way we all do._

_Some of these journal entries of mine feel a little repetitive, but I’d like to think that it shows how important those things are in my life.  As per that repetition, I am awfully proud of Oliver.  I made certain he knew nothing about it, but I know what I’m doing for Oliver’s graduation present._

_I hope he enjoys spending with Diana Prince half as much time as I think he does, because she wants to take him (and Clark) on a little a trip to the Mediterranean.  Inspired by their mentor, Clark and Oliver have wanted to visit Greece, see some of the sights like the Parthenon.  I also believe that Diana will be introducing them to sights not known to the public._

“Frappe for your thoughts?” 

Seated next to her bedroom window, Trixie looks up.  It still amazes her that out of all the available homes in Smallville, Lucifer chose this single-story house with a full basement.  It’s a nice house and is crazy expensive as far as this town goes, but it’s not the most ostentatious.  Lucifer admits to nothing, but she thinks that the house reminds him the most of the beach house that she used to live in with her mother a long time ago, back when she first met Lucifer.

This one has a nicer basement though.  Her bedroom is in the basement in fact.  Three bedrooms, three full bathrooms, a massive kitchen, and just overly spacious, the house is more than cozy.  One of the rooms in the basement has a bar and Lucifer has been setting up what he has of his old liquor collection in it.  It also has a poker table.  Lucifer’s been teaching her to play poker.  They play it without cash, but she thinks she’s starting to tell when he’s bluffing.  For a man who doesn’t like to lie, it’s difficult knowing when he is telling a lie. 

Trixie’s own bedroom is big enough to comfortably accommodate a queen-sized bed, along with a desk, a dresser, and some of her old toys.  She outgrew a number of things, but recently some of her old stuffed animals have started to hold a bit of sentimental value.  She couldn’t just get rid of them.

Trixie stares up at Lucifer.  She almost smiles at the hopeful quality in his smile.  It even brings out a bit of smugness that she’s able to get that kind of desperation out of a man who could talk—or even just smile at people—into bed.  Then she looks at the frappe in his hand.  He can mix a martini and now he can make a delicious frappe.  She can smell the pumpkin spice of the frappe.    

“I suppose that I won’t get that frappe if I don’t talk?” asks Trixie, feeling playful.

Lucifer offers a considerate look.  “I wasn’t before, but now, yes.”  The amusement in his eyes fades as he turns gentler, more…fatherly.  “Darling, you’ve barely spoken to me since that whole incident with the love potion.”

“Are the cheerleaders still sane?” asks Trixie, smiling.  Lucifer was quite vague, but Trixie didn’t need an explicit explanation to guess that he set those cheerleaders right Lucifer-style.

“I think it’s quite possible some of them are afraid of putting on their cheer skirts,” replies Lucifer, grinning wickedly.  “It’s little trickier these days since I don’t have my devil-face, but it’s not impossible to frighten people.  May I sit?” 

Trixie gestures to the bed and Lucifer hands her the frappe as he sits down. 

“Miss Lane called the house the again,” he explains.  “She’s wondering why you’ve been avoiding her.”

Trixie rolls her eyes, feeling emotion build up painfully.  “I can’t even look at her.”

Lucifer gapes at her.  “Why not?”

“You know why,” Trixie fires back as she takes a long sip of her frappe.

“Trixie, darling, you know I’d be able to tell if she’s aware of your feelings for her and she is not,” explains Lucifer firmly.  “All she is a young woman concerned for her friend.”

Trixie laughs mirthlessly.  “You know, when we took a trip through dimensions I doubt you suspected that we’d also end up in a different time.  Back home, in Los Angeles, everybody knew that I was a lesbian.  The homophobes were the minority.  Here, there's no law granting gay marriage in all fifty states; words like ‘fag’ and ‘dyke’ float around freely; the gay community are the minority!  I attend Smallville High and the last person I saw coming out as gay, he was found duct-taped to a toilet with penises drawn onto his cheeks with sharpie!”

“I made sure the students responsible were expelled,” snaps Lucifer defensively.  “If you remember from the day we first met—”

“When you hated children and told me things like ‘fetch’?” Trixie interrupts.  It’s actually more of a funny memory, purely because he eventually learned to adore children—her and Emma mostly.

“I told that girl you hit in the ‘no-no-touch-touch square’ that there was a special place in hell for bullies,” he finishes.  “I was just trying to scare her, but I still have no tolerance for bullying.”

Trixie stares at him hard as she sips her frappe.  It’s not long before tears start to fall.  Seeing them, her stepfather pats the space next to her on the bed.  Not seeing much choice in the matter, she gets up and sits next to him and starts crying into his shoulder.

“I’ve never felt more like a freak,” she dribbles out.  “I just want to be able to express myself without worrying what people will do to me.”

Lucifer slips an arm around her and squeezes her to him.  “I know, darling, I know,” he whispers into her hair.  “People are real douchebags about things they fail to understand.  Give it time, Trixie.  Maybe it will be Lois Lane, maybe it won’t, but there’s a young lady out there just waiting for you to sweep her off her feet.  I can promise you that.”

A hiccuping laugh rises out of Trixie as she lifts her head.  “You used to be the king of Hell; don’t you punish the gay community?”

Lucifer smiles down at her slyly.  “I didn’t punish homosexuality as a practice, much to Dad’s annoyance.  As for religious morons who use Sodom and Gomorrah as an excuse for passing unfair judgment onto the LGBT community, they are stupidly pathetic.  Sodom and Gomorrah burned for many reasons, mostly non-procreative things like bestiality and anal and oral sex.  Now before you tell me ‘too much information’, I will also add that people were also not falling in love and they had all turned their back on Dad.

“I never punished people simply because they didn’t love the opposite sex or they felt they needed to switch genders.”

Trixie gapes up at him.  “Careful, Luci,” she warns him teasingly.  “People might start to think the devil is benevolent.”

His eyes widen and Trixie’s smile spreads to her ears.  “Well we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

“Wouldn’t want what?”  they turn around and see Emma standing in the doorway.

“Emma!” they say together. 

“Can I come in, Trixie?” asks Emma hopefully.

“I don’t know can you?” teases Trixie. 

Emma rolls her eyes.  “ _May_ I come in?”

Trixie exchanged a look with Lucifer before returning to her half-sister.  “Get in here, squirt.”

Emma flies into the room and jumps on the bed.  “What’s for dinner?” she asks excitedly. 

“I was thinking pizza,” replies Lucifer after a brief pause.  “How is that, girls?”

Trixie, to her amazement, squeals as happily as her seven-year-old sister.

 

***

 

“How are you doing?”

“Are you transitioning well?”

“Does it bother you that Clark is as tall as you these days?”

“What happened to you on that island?”

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Since coming home from that island, Oliver has been hearing all the same questions about his wellbeing, how he’s transitioning, how he’s dealing with his losses, and even how he plans on taking control of Queen Industries.  He answers all the questions as best he can, but they annoy him.  Hearing those questions from those he actually cares about—people like Clark, the Kents, Chloe, Tess, and even Lois Lane—is okay, but hearing them over and over again from other people really gets on his nerves.  For a few weeks, reporters routinely showed up at his house, or cornered him some place in town seeking an interview.  One time it was while he was grocery shopping. 

At home, he tries to keep to himself.  He hasn’t gotten far in looking into whatever his father got into, nor has he found anything regarding a 33.1, whatever it was, so he’s decided to set it aside for a little while.  Sometimes, in the middle of the night he gets up and goes for a walk in the dark. 

On the island, he had no flashlight and he had to be careful with how much wood he used so there were several nights when he never even used a torch.  The only fire he used was for roasting game—something that took him a week or two to be able to do without making himself sick to his stomach—and sleeping close to.  A lot of things could happen in the night, animals could lurk up to him and hurt him, and it’s all made a light sleeper out of him.

Some things he can sleep through.  He can sleep through a stormy night in the event he was somewhere safe from the weather, like a cave, but certain sounds he just learned to wake up to.  Oliver can’t remember the last time he had a good night’s sleep.  Sometimes, it makes him feel like a difficult boyfriend for Tess.  He’s slept with her on a few occasions, but even her companionship hasn’t made things much easier. 

Times when he’s alone, he still finds himself sleeping with a knife close by.  One of those knives was shattered when Clark accidentally startled him awake.  Clark was only trying to wake him up from a bad nightmare.  Later, when Oliver started breathing normally, they joked that it was good thing that it was him instead of Lois. 

Oliver doesn’t want to think about what kind of retribution he would face from General Sam Lane if he stabbed Lois, no matter the reason.  Especially not after he and Clark promised that Lois would be safe sharing a house with two young men. 

Lois is a…interesting young woman.  There are days when Oliver feels like Lois doesn’t understand him or Clark at all and days where she seems to understand them better than anyone.  She doesn’t follow any sleep schedule, yet she always seems up and about for school.  She doesn’t seem to have any food allergies like Oliver does and she eats a lot.  She’s not a farmer, but she is a woman who was raised on military bases with people in the Army.

Since that strange incident with the kryptonite-enhanced love potion that made everyone a bit slave-like to the objects of their affection, Lois has returned to MetU.  Lex Luthor pulled some strings and they accepted her back.  Being as desperate as she was to get out of Smallville, she accepted without hesitation.  Oliver was sad to see her go and if he knows Clark half as well as he thinks he does, he was too.  The dinner table felt strangely empty without her presence, or her running her mouth constantly.  Smugly, Oliver thinks they rubbed off on her a bit.  She still visits on the weekends. 

That same incident made things awkward between a few people.  Clark and Chloe still care very much about each other, he can tell, but it seems that the incident scared them both into taking step or two back.  Pete, who clearly has feelings for Lana Lang, threw himself a bit of a pity party.  Oliver found the poor guy drowning his sorrows in coffee at the Talon. 

Mr. Morningstar doesn’t seem to have much of a bedside manner, even if he has shown himself to be a loving father.  His logic was that if Pete really cared so much about Lana, he should stop being a sourpuss and man up.  Show her that he’s worthy of being her man.  He’s not wrong, but he doesn’t have to be so forceful either.  Maybe it’s exactly what Pete needs.  However, Lana also seems to be in a committed relationship with someone.  Oliver can’t tell who, but from what he can gather that’s exactly how she wants it. 

Pete will get his chance with her at some point.  He just needs to stop feeling sorry for himself. 

Then there was Lois and Trixie.  Lois remains unaware, but Clark and Oliver sat down with Trixie.  Trixie is clearly in love with Lois.  Trixie was a little hostile, but she softened up a bit when they assured her that they weren’t homophobic.  As for Lois knowing or not, they left that up to her.  She didn’t feel comfortable talking about it, so they didn’t dwell on the subject. 

This weekend, Oliver doesn’t want to think.  He just wants a distraction.  Clark is at the movies with Chloe and Tess is busy with paperwork for Queen Industries.  Oliver gets into his car and just drives.

He doesn’t know if it was a conscious decision or not, but he finds himself heading to the Kent farm.  Last he remembers, he was a permanent visitor and Jonathan and Martha were normally ones to call if they didn’t want any unannounced visitors.  He received no call, so he figures that they won’t mind his showing up.

The driveway comes up and Oliver turns into their property.  One of the first things he noticed when he came back from the island were the “no trespassing” signs on their property.  It makes sense.  If not for intruders, it also made sense because of the fact that they had taken in Clark.  They wouldn’t want people accidentally seeing his abilities.

Eventually the little yellow house and the large red barn come into view.  Mostly likely having seen his approach, Oliver sees Martha Kent come out the door as he parks his car and steps out. 

“Oliver!” greets Martha.

“Martha,” he greets back.  He gives himself a mental pat on the back for remembering not to address her as Mrs. Kent.

“This is an unexpected surprise,” marvels Martha. 

Oliver frowns.  “It’s not a bad time, is it?”

“Oh, not at all,” Martha replies quickly.  “We’ll be having dinner in a half hour.  Would you like to join us?”

Oliver gazes into the woman’s eyes, taking in her inviting smile and seeing the woman who has practically been a second mother to him the latter part of his childhood.  “I don’t have any other plans.  I’d love to.”  He glances around.  “Where’s Jonathan?”

“Oh, he’s in the barn,” replies Martha.  “Why don’t you go say hi?”

Even as she speaks, Oliver starts walking towards the old barn.  Memories of playing with Clark in that barn become clearer as he enters it.  After a hard day’s work, or when Jonathan would give them a break, when they weren’t eating their lunches, they were playing in this barn.  They would practice their archery skills (the Kents were given materials that were strong enough to withstand the velocity of Clark’s arrows and throwing knives) or they would simply play board games. 

Oliver stands in the barn now and it doesn’t seem like much has changed.  He’s sure the loft is still set up the way he and Clark had it.  Clark always seems to enjoy the solitude of this loft and the loft above their garage at home.  He has friends, but he’s still very much an introvert.

Then he sees Jonathan Kent.  Still the same sandy blonde hair, huge arms, flannel shirt, and worn work boots.  To add to Oliver’s sense of déjà vu, Jonathan is working on the tractor.  He could still never decide.  Do the Kents spend more time using the tractor, or fixing the tractor?

Judging by the angry grunts and frustrated exclamations, it sounds like this is one of those days the tractor decided to be a bitch, as Oliver used to say when he worked on the farm. 

“Need a hand?” he asks, rolling up his sleeves. 

Having not heard his approach, Jonathan yelps, standing up so suddenly that his hand hits the tractor.  “Damn it!” he exclaimed, shaking his hand.  Then his eyes lock with Oliver’s.  “Oliver.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” he apologizes.

Jonathan scoffs and bats off his apology.  “Oh, if it wasn’t going to be you, Martha would have scared me anyway.”  He crosses his arms and regards Oliver thoughtfully.  “How’ve you been—really?”

Oliver knows there is no use lying to him.  “I’ve gotten used to sleeping on a bed, but I still sleep as if I’m waiting for a snake to sneak up on me.”  He’s forced himself to eat snake on more occasions that he could count and he always hated it.  He can also thankfully say that while he’s been bitten by snakes a few times, he somehow managed to avoid getting bitten by venomous snakes.

“I can’t imagine,” says Jonathan honestly, albeit sympathetically.  Then he offers that signature warm smile of his, the one that always made Oliver think of him as a second father.  “I’d be lying if I said I understood everything you’re going through, but give it time, Oliver.  You’ll get a good night’s sleep one of these days.” 

Oliver smiles as he fights the urge to hug the man.  For the first time it feels like those words have a bit of meaning. 

“Why don’t we sit,” invited Jonathan.  He heads up to the loft and Oliver follows him.  As the loft comes into view, he can tell that not much has changed.  Same old red couch, same mountains of books, Clark and Oliver’s corners where they kept some of their own toys between chores…the barn belongs to Jonathan and Martha Kent, but it’s not unsafe to say that this loft belongs to Oliver and Clark Queen.

Jonathan takes a seat on the couch and Oliver sits beside him. 

“I have to say that this is the first time that you and I have had a chance to speak to each other,” marvels Jonathan.

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” agrees Oliver. 

“Not to sound like a shrink, but how are you dealing with your parents being gone?” asks Jonathan.

Oliver smiles sadly.  If he were to be honest, he would rather talk to someone like Jonathan instead of a shrink.  He exhales slowly.  “That awkward moment when you spend five years thinking about nothing but getting home and…” he takes another deep breath as he tries to fight the tears from coming.  “You finally get your wish and you realize you came home to a nightmare.  Wishful thinking, I guess.  I would have been happier if I came home to find out one or both my parents had cancer.”

“No you wouldn’t have,” argues Jonathan.  “You would have felt just as bitter because it would have meant that you’d have still lost them.”

Oliver laughs mirthlessly.  “Maybe you’re right.”  Another thought comes up.  “I still remember the last thing I said to my dad.  I told him that I hated him and I hated that he brought Clark into my family, making our lives so difficult.  The first thing I wanted to do when I saw my dad again was to say that I was sorry.  Now I’ll never get the chance.”  His efforts fail and tears start running down his cheeks.

“When you disappeared, your dad was a mess,” explains Jonathan.  “I can’t tell you how many times I found him in the bar, passed out or so drunk that he couldn’t tell the difference between his car keys and his credit card.  In his own words, he ‘wasted hundreds of thousands of dollars’ looking for you.  Your mother went into rehab once or twice for overdosing on antidepressants.  Clark, it took months to so much as get him to talk about anything other than his homework.  Nobody was able to get him to open up.

“Eventually everyone learned to accept that you really were gone and we all held a small funeral.  I wish I could have written down your brother’s eulogy.  Now all I can remember is how beautiful it was.”  Jonathan bores into Oliver’s eyes.  “Your brother isn’t from this world, but he loves you very much.”

Oliver smiles softly.  He also makes a mental note to ask Clark what he said in that eulogy of his.  “What about when my parents died?”

Now Jonathan hesitates.  “I don’t need to tell you that your dad and I were very close, but he did have his secrets.  He wouldn’t tell me where he was going, but yeah.  From what Clark told me, once the plane reached its cruising altitude, it just exploded.”  He leans in close.  “I’m not sure if this is my place, but I don’t think that that explosion was an accident.  I think someone was trying to expose Clark.”

Oliver doesn’t share it, but those thoughts have crossed his mind.  The fact that Jonathan is voicing similar thoughts makes those thoughts seem all the more plausible to him.  “How did Clark take their deaths?”

“He ran away to Metropolis,” replies Jonathan.  “You remember red meteor rocks?”

Oliver nods.  He remembers his dad talking about them, but knowing what the green meteor rocks did to Clark, they made absolute certain he didn’t come in contact with the red ones.

“His sophomore year, he bought a class ring,” explains Jonathan.  “It was sold as a ruby, but it turns out it was actually red meteor rock.  It strips away his inhibitions.  He thinks it, he does it.”

Oliver isn’t sure he likes how that would look. 

“Instead of processing his grief, Clark put on a class ring with red kryptonite—I’m not sure if you’ve heard that term yet—and just tried to ‘stop feeling’ as he put it.”

“How did you convince him to come home?” asks Oliver. 

Jonathan chuckles.  “As much as I’d like to take credit for that, Chloe takes cred it for that.  She found him in Metropolis and somehow talked him into getting rid of the ring.  Even after that, when he started living here with Martha and I, it took a long time to get him to open up.  Eventually, he just started sharing memories.”

“Can you remember any of the particular ones he shared?”

“I wish I could, Oliver,” laughs Jonathan.  “Then again, I’m not sure if they are as meaningful coming from me.”

They sit in silence for several minutes. 

“Thanks, Jonathan,” Oliver says finally.

Jonathan frowns.  “For…?”

“Taking care of my brother, and simply being a friend to my family for as long as I can remember,” Oliver clarifies.

Jonathan laughs and Oliver ends up laughing with him.  “Hey, Martha probably has dinner on the table.  Why don’t you join us, Oliver?” 

He has nothing better to do at the moment.  “I’d love that.”

“Jonathan!  Oliver!” shouts Martha, startling them both.  “Come quick!” 

Not even exchanging a look, the two of them jump to their feet and rush down the steps.  When they reach the entrance to the barn, they see what Martha is shouting about. 

“Oh, my God,” Jonathan chokes out.  Claire, their ten-month-old daughter is walking!  Oliver stands back and enjoys the tender moment as Jonathan gets to his knees.  “Hey, there Claire,” he chokes out.  “Come to Daddy.” 

She doesn’t fully understand him, but the adorable toddler with red hair like her mother’s wearing overalls and toddler-sized Converses, begins waddling shaking towards him.  Martha follows her not too far behind in case she falls. 

Claire continues to waddle, but Oliver soon realizes that she’s walking towards _him_.  Oliver exchanged nervous glances with Jonathan and Martha. 

“Hey, kid, go to your daddy,” he tells the toddler nervously.  She doesn’t listen and before he can stop her, she runs into his leg.  Not knowing what else to do, Oliver bends down and picks her up.  Oliver studies the little critter in his arms thoughtfully.  “Why do I get the feeling you are going to be even more pigheaded than your dad?” he asks Claire.

Claire doesn’t answer as she gazes up at him with those adorable blue eyes. 

“Looks like you’ve made a new friend, Oliver,” says Martha observantly. 

He exchanges glances with her and Jonathan, registering their beaming, tearful smiles.  “Yeah, I guess I did.”  He gently eases Claire into Jonathan’s arms and waits a moment before he follows them inside.

He thinks that he just found another reason to become a protector of sorts.  Now he needs to figure out a better costume that his torn up hoodies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if Oliver seems uncharacteristically sappy. We never did see how he reacted to his parents dying in the show, nor the things he did right when he got back from the island. Don't worry though. He'll brighten up eventually.


	13. Chapter Twelve

_September 8 th, 1998_

_The house is a bit quieter these days.  Oliver is at college now.  Out of everyone, Clark sees him the most.  He can run from Smallville to Princeton in less than two hours.  As much as I am pleased that he and Oliver have such a strong bond, I have told both of them that they can have their visits so long as Clark doesn’t distract his brother from his studies._

_Laura cried like a baby when Oliver left for Princeton.  Even I got a bit choked up.  I helped raise him for crying out loud!  Even in the animal world, there comes a time when the cub leaves to find his or her place in the world.  Oliver insisted that he wasn’t really “leaving” us.  He was starting a new chapter of his life._

_It still felt like I was letting someone sever my hand with a butter knife.  I told Laura that there comes a point in time when we just need to loosen our grips on our children and let them grow, but I was also convincing myself.  Either way, there’s still a weirdly empty chair at the dinner table.  At one point, I think I strongly considered placing a cutout of Oliver in that chair.  To my utter horror, Clark would later tell me that I said as much after a night of too many glasses of wine—and emailed Oliver about it._

_Clark laughed himself silly over it, but Oliver sent me a very sympathetic email.  He also joked that if I do go through with the cutout idea, that to make sure it wasn’t too goofy-looking._

_This past summer was, as far as I can tell, very educational for the boys.  They spent a long time traveling with Diana Prince.  They did visit Athens among other places.  Apparently, places like the Acropolis of Athens holds more secrets than the world gives it credit for.  I wish I could say more, but Clark and Oliver explicitly told me that they were sworn to secrecy.  They couldn’t even tell me or their mother what sort of things they learned from their mentor, Diana._

_Whatever they learned, I do suspect that they will become better warriors and people as they grow older.  With Clark, it is more of a destiny that he becomes the best warrior he can be.  With Oliver, a part of me would rather him not be a warrior, but I also want him to be able to protect his brother when the time comes._

_On an interesting note, Clark has told me recently that his brother has found himself a crush at Princeton.  He made me promise not to bring it up with Oliver, but I can’t say that I’ll keep that promise for too long.  I guess Oliver has fallen hard for an MIT transfer named Felicity Smoak.  Based on Clark’s description, she’s a bit of a quirky, fast-talking, awkward blonde with glasses._

_Maybe I don’t even have to worry about Clark distracting Oliver from his studies.  I might be a little itchy just to tease him about it, so long as he doesn’t fall behind.  Otherwise, in the event he does fall behind, I might strongly advise that he stay away from this Miss Smoak.  Wait.  That might just strengthen his desire for her._

_I’ll see what happens._

 

Since the pompom juice incident, things at school have been relatively quiet, at least for Clark.  He and Chloe have been patching things up.  They are talking and hanging out like they used to, but are nowhere near ready to say that they are romantically involved.

Immediately after Chloe was “cured” for lack of a better word of the pompom juice, they shared that Thai food that Chloe had bought.  They even invited Trixie to share it with them since she was there anyway.  Actually, they insisted on it.  After explaining that it was all just a misunderstanding, Lois went back into the house.  Oliver, however, who also came out to see what was going on, insisted on joining them.  He wasn’t hungry, but he did want to get to know Trixie more.  Trixie didn’t seem to have many friends other than Lois, so they felt that it was good to get her to hang out with them.

They ended up having a good time together and even managed to get a smile out of Trixie.  Chloe was the one to ask if Trixie had feelings for Lois.  Trixie was apprehensive, but Chloe wasn’t rude about the question at least.  Trixie said she didn’t know.  She thinks that Lois is gorgeous and she has thought about asking her out before, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. 

Chloe wouldn’t comment on Lois’s sexual orientation.  It’s something that Clark wasn’t able to get her to talk about as she didn’t feel it was her place.  All she would tell him is that Lois had “explored” her sexuality once and her father, General Sam Lane, didn’t take it very well. 

Trixie could ask Lois out if she really wanted to, but Chloe couldn’t guarantee that Lois would say yes.  She did promise that if Lois said no, it wouldn’t be due to homophobia. 

All in all, it started out as a very dramatic evening and it ended up turning into something nice.  Clark and Chloe got to know their new friend, Trixie Decker, and she got to know them. 

Trixie did have a fascinating story to tell.  She used to live in Los Angeles with her detective mother, who was actually a B-movie actress once upon a time.  Her parents got divorced when she was very young for reasons she didn’t want to discuss in full depth.  From what she did say, one of the contributing factors was that there was some case that made a pariah out of her mother.  Chloe almost said that it seemed like a silly reason to separate, but Clark stopped her.

Clark was the one to ask how Mr. Morningstar came into her life.  He felt it was a good move too, because as she started talking about him, she began to smile more.  It was actually a case that brought her mother and Mr. Morningstar together.  A former client of Mr. Morningstar’s was murdered and he, with dubious permission, assisted on the case.  He then met Trixie at her school where she says he introduced her to the word “hooker”. 

Clark and Chloe couldn’t help but laugh at the idea of an eight-year-old girl asking her parents, “What’s a hooker?”

Mr. Morningstar didn’t like her initially, or at least he tried to show that he didn’t like her, but Trixie said she grew on him.  Eventually, when she was about ten years old, they got married.  A lot of people, mostly Mr. Morningstar’s family, weren’t happy about the union, but it sounded like it was a happy marriage. 

Trixie didn’t go on much further than that.  It must have grown too emotional to talk about. 

Clark and Chloe shared some stories about each other while strategically avoiding any stories about Clark’s superpowers. 

Trixie thought they sounded really well together and wondered why they even broke up in the first place.  That was one thing that they didn’t want to discuss.  Clark isn’t sure he will ever stop feeling ashamed that he didn’t let anybody in after his parents were killed, nor will he ever forget the sight of them being incinerated right before his eyes.  Even the red kryptonite couldn’t mask that trauma.

Chloe had bought a lot of Thai food and they ended up sending some leftovers home with Trixie.  Oliver was surprisingly quiet during the whole event.  He would later explain that he just wanted to observe.    

After that evening, Clark, with the help of Lois, Chloe, and Trixie, tried to figure out a way to help get the football team out from under the pompom juice spell. 

There was that pool party that the cheerleaders were hosting.  Knowing that there had to have been some cheerleaders who witnessed him sipping the Gatorade, Chloe, Lois, and Trixie talked him into pretending that he was in a pompom juice haze.  He didn’t like the idea, but eventually it proved to be effective. 

At the pool party, while Clark, much to his discomfort, was making out with the cheerleader Mandy and pretending to enjoy it, Lois managed to get ahold of the packet detailing the love molecule formula.  Eventually, they managed to lure all of the football players into the locker rooms and Clark discreetly melted a hole into a hot pipe, spraying them all with hot steam. 

On Monday, Clark heard that many of the cheerleaders, mainly Mandy, were given detention by Mr. Morningstar.  The man might be all smiles with his fancy suits and posh accent, but he doesn’t seem like the kind of person whose bad side you want to get on. 

After attending Pete’s football practice, Chloe stopped Clark.  She said that as much as she wanted to blame the whole Gatorade incident for coming onto him so strong, she said that she still has those feelings for him somewhere. 

Clark was as gentle as he could be.  Other than his brother, there’s not a single person that he cares about more than Chloe Sullivan.  He told her as much and that she would be his first choice if he started dating again, but he simply wasn’t ready to be dating anyone at the moment.  Chloe tearfully accepted, but also asked if they could at least keep their friendship.

Clark laughed and told her that if she has to ask that question, then she really is a dumb blonde.  She joked that if there wasn’t a strong possibility that she could break her fist that she would punch him.  Clark will never admit it, but when Chloe says stuff like that, filling him with the idea of her hurting him even playfully, is very arousing. 

Chloe had to run, but Clark promised to meet her at the Talon.  A few minutes later, Lois cornered him.  She gave him an ultimatum.  If he breaks her heart, she would come back (from MetU) and she would break his legs.  Clark reminded her of the fact that when she tried to punch him in the face, she hurt her hand really bad.  Lois argued that even he had a soft spot somewhere.  He did so long as she had kryptonite, but he didn’t need to tell her that. 

She went on to tell him that Lex Luthor called the dean of MetU and she was accepted back.  A cynical part of him thought that it was one of Lex’s efforts to patch up their friendship.  Clark also thinks that Lex is a little jealous of the fact that Oliver is back.  Why would Lex see some sort of competition where Oliver is concerned? 

To his surprise, Clark was sad to see Lois go.  As annoying as she is, he’s grown to actually enjoy her company once in a while.  He also likes the fact that she seems capable of getting Oliver to come out of his shell when Tess isn’t around.

Lois promised that she would visit.  Coming from her, Clark couldn’t decide if it was a promise or a threat.  She purposely left that up for ambiguity before she left with a “See you around, Smallville.”

When Clark finally made it to the Talon, he found Chloe sitting with Pete…and Oliver.  Poor Pete looked like he was trying to drown his sorrows in that large banana nut muffin.  Clark joined them and asked what was going on. 

Pete launched into a sob story of how stupid he felt.  He felt stupid to ever think that he would have a chance with Lana Lang.  So that was who he has a crush on.  Clark asked him why he felt that he couldn’t have a chance with Lana.  He’s buff, he’s captain of the football team, and he’s actually polite with girls when he’s not being too flirtatious…  A thought stuck Clark.  Was Lana the reason why Pete and Coach Teague got into that nasty fight?

Pete wouldn’t say anything on the matter, but Clark exchanged a glance with Chloe.  If Coach Teague was involved with Lana in any way, someone had to say something.  Even if it’s consensual, it shouldn’t be happening.  Coach Teague is school staff and Lana is a student.   Clark told Pete that he should say something to someone about it.  Pete didn’t want to face the repercussions.  In fact, he said that Lana begged him not to say anything as Jason really needed the job. 

Before Clark could stop her, Chloe said that if he had any brains at all, he would have gotten a job that didn’t complicate his relationship with Lana.  Instead of getting more upset, however, Pete agreed with her.  He went on to say that if it wasn’t going to be him, eventually someone else would catch them and would say something.

Mr. Morningstar, who had come by with their drinks overheard some of the conversation and told Pete that he should man up.  If he cares so much about Lana, he should go after her, show her that he can be her man.

Pete didn’t seem ready to take up that blunt advice, but over the next couple of weeks he seems to have started taking it into consideration.

Over those same couple of weeks, Clark felt that things were lightening up around him.  Even though he said that he wasn’t ready to be dating, he did have dinner with Chloe a couple of times, once at a fancy restaurant and the second time at his house where he made dinner. 

Pete has been continuing to lead the Crows to more and more victories.  In fact, he recently told Clark that some scouts from MetU would be attending the next game. 

Trixie started talking to Clark and Chloe more at school.  She has even started showing a bit of a devious side to her.  Her intentions don’t seem too sinister, but she does seem to have something of a manipulative streak.  She’s also quite observant.  Guys who still try to flirt with her, she asks them startlingly personal questions.  One guy, she asked if his girlfriend was aware that he was flirting with other girls in a not-so-platonic way.  She went on to say that that said girlfriend of his didn’t come off as someone who was okay with an open relationship. 

She embarrassed the hell out of the poor guy.

Even Oliver seems to be lightening up a bit.  Much to Clark’s jealousy, he got to witness little Claire Kent walking for the first time.  Even so, from what Clark could see, having that little girl walk up to him really lifted his spirits.  He’s even beginning to smile more.  However, Clark knows his brother and he can tell that it’s going to be a while before he can really be considered happy. 

Today, figuring his brother could use the company, Clark decided to stay home.  He even politely turned down Lex’s offer for a couple of tickets to some MetU game.  The fact that Oliver and Lex seem to be giving each other the cold shoulder, Clark wonders what happened between them.  He knows that they went to Princeton together.  Was there some sort of disagreement between them?

Clark thought it was best not to dwell on it.  Instead, he got Oliver to play a few video games with him.  He got Oliver to play _Halo_ with him.

An hour later, Oliver was growing frustrated. 

“Are you tired of me killing you yet?” asks Clark after beating his brother for the umpteenth time.

Oliver grumbles as he drops the controller.  “If we could have a fair fight of archery, I bet I could beat you,” he challenges.

“And I would still beat you at throwing knives,” Clark adds.  It actually is possible for them to have a fair fight.  About six months before their dad died, he discovered blue kryptonite.  It’s not necessarily harmful, but while Clark is exposed to it, he is susceptible to the same injuries as any human being.  He’s also only about as strong as a regular human being.  It was really helpful in terms of teaching him fencing lessons.   

Oliver nods thoughtfully.  “You’re not wrong there.”  A smile spreads across his lips.  “Say, you want to go see a movie?”

Clark sits up straighter.  “What did you have in mind?” 

“Well, I was thinking…”

Before Oliver can finish that thought, a loud ringing hits Clark’s ears, causing him to double over. 

“Clark, what’s the matter?” Oliver asks frantically, coming up beside Clark.

“I don’t know,” Clark replies, wincing.  “I’m sorry, I have to go.”  Before Oliver can ask what’s going on, Clark starts running towards the source of the sound.  It’s that same sound he heard when Kal-El was in control.  It’s the same sound that led him to that stone in Lex’s plane.

Clark just keeps running and running, not knowing where exactly he’s going.  Eventually, to his wonder, the sound leads him to the Kansas State Penitentiary.  _Why am I here?_ Clark wonders as he rushes inside.  He knows for a fact that Lex was visiting Lionel today.  Maybe he can bump into him. 

The ringing having subsided somewhat, Clark heads to the receptionist’s desk.  He quickly explains that Lex Luthor was expecting him.  Clark is sure that if it weren’t for the fact that he’s a Queen, they wouldn’t have allowed his unscheduled visit. 

A correctional officer comes by and escorts him to the visiting room.  Therein, he sees Lex sitting across from Lionel.  Weirdly enough, Lionel is where the ringing in Clark’s ears is the strongest.  Lionel doesn’t look well, he thinks.  Not knowing what else to do, he focuses his x-ray vision on Lionel.  He sees something in Lionel’s hand.  It looks like he’s about to stab Lex! 

Before Lionel can lift that hand, Clark rushes over and knocks Lex out of the way.  “Look out!” he shouts.  However, as he shoves Lionel away, Lionel presses the object against Clark’s hand.  Clark blacks out for a minute.

When his eyes swim back into focus, his eyes find…himself?  Why is he staring at himself?  Clark looks down at his hands.  These are not his hands.  He didn’t come here wearing a jumpsuit. 

 _Oh my, God_ …Clark thinks.  He’s in Lionel Luthor’s body.  That means Lionel is in _his_ body!  He tries to warn Lex, but a couple of correctional officers pounce on him, pulling him away.

“Lex, you don’t understand!” he shouts, to no avail.  Just before Lionel—in his body—disappears around the corner, he smirks at him. 

 _How’s this for a freaky Saturday?_ Clark wonders hopelessly, staring down at the object in his hand.  How’s he going to warn his friends?  What’s Lionel going to do walking around looking like him?  He hopes somebody figures out that that is not him.

Hopefully they find out sooner than later. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all for this weekend. Now I know I made mention of Felicity, and I am sure some are wondering if Felicity Smoak is going to make an official appearance in this story. Sorry if I don't satisfy anyone's curiosity. You will all just have to read on.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter does not start with one of Robert Queen's journal entries, but rather one of what might end up being a handful of interludes. 
> 
> More of Robert Queen's ramblings are on the way though. Eventually, we'll be seeing more of how Robert and Laura deal with Clark's powers up to this point.

_Paris, a few months ago…_

 

_Diana regards the rusty, ancient spearhead that was presented to her.  The Greek archeologist whose name she didn’t commit to memory, even if she only heard it five minutes ago, seems quite convinced.  Diana prides herself in being a legitimate antiquities dealer, but some things require her to step outside the law once in a while.  Diana Prince has done a few black market deals herself and it has given her a certain reputation.  She will always claim that she didn’t have a hand in it, but people seem to have set some sort of high standard when it comes to trying to sell her items, such as this one._

_Putting on her useless glasses to make herself appear more professional, more…human, Diana makes a show of actually inspecting it.  The archeologist was advertising it as the spearhead that King Leonidas himself used at the famed Battle of Thermopylae.  He even said that it was found near the historic site of the battle._

_Diana knows all about the Battle of Thermopylae.  The Amazons were always very adamant about not being involved with man’s world, so growing up she never learned about things that happened in the world.  The irony of it, at least to her, is that she learned a lot about early Western civilization and philosophy.  She also knows every language in the world.  After her beloved Steve Trevor died in 1953, she withdrew from the world.  To occupy her time, she started learning everything she could about the history of the world, taking a special interest in Ancient to early Greek and Roman history._

_Given some of her lesser known resources for gaining knowledge of the past, Diana would like to think that she knows more about events like the Battle of Thermopylae than some of the most respected professors in the world.  As demonstrated when she took the sons of her dear friend, Robert Queen, to Athens, in their words, she knows more, and is a lot less boring, than most tour guides._

_The spearhead is a fake.  Just by looking at it, she could say that it’s about…eighty years old?  That’s her safest guess, but either way, it is definitely less than one hundred years old.  Whoever or wherever this archeologist acquired this spearhead from went to great lengths to make it look older than in actually was._

_“I’m sorry, I can’t accept this,” Diana apologizes in Greek._

_A vein in the archeologist’s temple looks ready to burst.  Diana almost feels bad for him.  He then launches into a tirade, claiming that this spearhead is legitimate.  Diana calmly walks him through all the reasons why it is a fake.  The spearhead is iron, the material used by the Spartans; historically, the blade of a dory was leaf-shaped, this one is leaf-shaped, but its proportions do not match those of dory.  The rust is heavily doctored.  With a proper cleansing, the amount of rust that would be left behind would be that of something that’s less than a hundred years old._

_The archeologist, who is undoubtedly an amateur—assuming he is indeed an archeologist as he claims—listens intently to what she has to say.  Apparently he needed the money to pay for an internship and he came across this spearhead through some underground dealer in Athens._

_Diana smiles sympathetically.  She feels bad because he was cheated of what could have been a lucrative artifact.  However, she also thinks it was considerably foolish of him to get mixed up with some crook.  Before asking him to leave, she gave him the names and coordinates of places that not many people in the world knew about.  If he can get to those places, he is bound to find artifacts that will pay off his internship ten times over._

_After he leaves, Diana takes off her glasses and slumps down in her chair, spinning about absentmindedly.  This job as an antiquities dealer has earned her as much praise, but it has also earned her a lot of enemies.  Her ability to tell if artifacts and antiquities are real or not is part of the reason she has this job.  It has also squashed a lot of potentially promising auctions for the Louvre.  It has made her something to be feared almost, especially among auctioneers and black marketers trying to cheat people with fake items, or items with false histories._

_Still, only a handful of them have ever tried to deal out some sort of retribution.  Amazingly enough, even a good amount of organized crime syndicates try to avoid her._

_She needs a vacation.  She needs to get away from Paris, away from France, probably even away from Europe.  All Diana wants to do is to find somewhere she can kick off her stilettos, wear her hair casually, and walk around in sweatpants and hoodies._

_As she bobs in her chair, something catches her eye.  It’s today’s copy of Le Figaro.  She hasn’t even looked at it yet.  Reaching forward and grabbing it, she straightens it out.  On the front page, she sees something that brings a smile to her face.  Memories of traveling with that spiky-haired beauty of a young man and his adoptive brother from another world flood Diana’s mind as she sees the heading in French, “Oliver Queen found!”_

_She knows what she’s going to do.  Her schedule is way too full at the moment, but that’s going to be her vacation._

_She’s going to visit two of her favorite men in the world—the Queen Brothers._

  

Oliver paces frantically as he the dial tone warbles on his cellphone.  Yet again, it goes to voicemail.  “You’ve reached Clark Queen, please leave a message.”

“Pick up your damn phone!” Oliver roars into the device.  In the five years that he had been gone, cellphone sure have gotten niftier and smaller.  His first cellular phone couldn’t fit in his coat pocket.  He shuts the stupid phone and slumps onto the couch. 

Several minutes ago, Clark was introducing him to the Halo games.  They are quite fun, but Oliver is nowhere near Clark’s skill level.  In retrospect, it’s the first time that Clark has been more than fifty-fifty in terms beating him. Oliver is sure that Clark’s skills have increased significantly in that five-year gap where they didn’t see each other, but they never seemed to be able to really get the best of each other for long.

It’s just a videogame, but Oliver is determined to get better at Halo.  One of these days, he’s going to have a higher number of kills than Clark. 

So he was just having some much-needed bonding time with his brother and all of the sudden Clark keeled over in pain.  Then he ran off before Oliver could really ask him what was wrong.

He knew Clark had his cellphone with him, so why is he answering?  The question races through Oliver’s mind over and over again and soon he feels that he needs a drink. 

He grabs the phone off the couch and exits the loft.  Remembering that Clark refilled the little refrigerator in the garage, Oliver heads over to that.  It really spares a trip to the house even if it would only have been a hundred-foot difference.

As Oliver pulls a soda out of the refrigerator, he hears a car approaching.  Curious, he exits through the open garage door to see who the unexpected guest is.  He knows who it is just by the car.  Ever since Lex learned to drive, it’s always been Porsches. 

Oliver thinks it’s quite possible Lex endorses Porsche.  Lex might even have slept with a woman or two who works for Porsche.  Oliver stands tall and authoritative as Lex pulls up the drive.  He doesn’t know why he feels the need to look imposing.  A more sentimental part of him thinks that he might be trying to mimic how his father, Robert would stand when greeting an unexpected—and potentially unwanted—guest.

Lex was friends with Clark and that same friendship is a bit strained at the moment, but even so, Oliver feels obligated to be a little more civil with him.  That’s one thing that his dad was always better at.  He could even say that Clark is better than he is at it. 

The Porsche comes to a stop and both doors open.  On the passenger side, Oliver lets out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding as he sees Clark.  Since Lex is present, Oliver tries to contain some of his relief and excitement.

“Where were you, Clark?” he asks. 

“He saved me from getting shanked by my own father,” Lex answers for him. 

Oliver stares at Lex.  “You were at the prison?” 

“My father’s latest game,” Lex replies distastefully.  “Using empty ‘I love you’s’ and ‘I’m sorry’s’ as a guise before attempting to harm me.”

It’s very subtle, but Oliver could have sworn he saw Clark stifling a scoff.  Lex didn’t seem to notice, so maybe it doesn’t matter. 

“How is he anyway?” asks Oliver conversationally. 

“His liver is shutting down,” replies Lex gravely.  “I’m not sure he has long to live.  And it seems that he wanted to tie up a few loose ends before he died.”

Again, Oliver thinks he sees something of a smirk in Clark’s eyes. 

“Well, it’s good to see you’re okay,” he says in earnest.  “Thanks for bringing Clark home.”

“No problem, Ollie,” Oliver really wishes that Lex would not call him that; he has not earned that privilege.

“You want a soda before you go?” he asks.

Lex smiles briefly.  “Thanks, Oliver, but I really must be going.  Take care.”  And with that, he gets back into his Porsche and Oliver watches as he drives around the loop with the large fountain sporting the Queen family crest on it before he heads out the same way he came in.  After he disappears around the corner, Oliver confronts Clark.

“What the hell happened?” he asks frantically.  “You looked like you were having a migraine and then you ran off.  How did you explain to Lex about how you got to the prison?”

Clark looks at him blankly.  It’s been a few years, but Oliver knows his brother well enough to know something is off.  He’s looking at him funny.  A fuzzy memory pops into Oliver’s head of when he was nine and Clark was three.  It’s that look when Clark was learning to view him as a brother, as family.  Yes, that’s what Clark’s expression is reminding him of.  But why?

Eventually, Clark smiles.  “I simply explained to Lex that I had taken a cab.”

“Did you tell him why you didn’t just take your Cadillac?” Oliver presses.  It’s a wonder that’s been bugging him for a while.  How does Clark explain it to people when he shows up to places without his car?  And why would he prefer a cab when he’s quite capable of using his Cadillac?  Oliver is sure his brother isn’t proud of it, but he suspects that he’s had to become a good liar. 

Clark gapes at him.  “I’m afraid I have not; it must have slipped my mind.”

Oliver will accept that.  “Oh, okay I guess.”  He looks down at his watch.  “It looks like we could still catch a movie if you’re still up for it.”

Clark considers it for a minute.  “Oh, um, I’d like to—Oliver—but I have other matters I need to attend to.”

 _Other matters I need to attend to…?_ Oliver repeats in his mind.  What did all those black and white movies he enjoys get to him?  And what’s with the awkward and hesitant way he says his name?  “Oh, okay, I guess.  Well, before you ‘attend to those other matters,’ Martha Kent called.”

Clark uncharacteristically tenses up at the mention of their godmother’s name.  If it’s implying what Oliver thinks it’s implying, then that’s just gross. 

“She couldn’t get ahold of you and she told me to remind you that you still need to make the lasagna for tomorrow night’s dinner,” explains Oliver.

Clark considers that for a minute.  “Oh, um, I’m afraid I won’t be able to do that.”

Now Oliver’s eyes widen.  “What’s the matter, have your cooking skills flown out the window?”  Commitments aside, Clark wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to get busy in the kitchen if his life depended on it.  Oliver even remembers several times where their mother would come in with her hands on her hips wondering if he had finished his homework first. 

“Tell Mrs. Kent that I am very sorry,” Clark commands.  “Do you know where my car keys are?”

“Tell _Mrs. Kent_ yourself!” Oliver snaps.  Clark rounds on him and for a second Oliver is slightly intimidated.  What’s gotten into his brother?  “And your car keys are in the coffee mug in the coat closet where you always keep them.” 

“I’m awfully sorry, Oliver,” apologizes Clark.  “I seem to be upsetting you.”

 _More like scaring me_.  “It’s fine, Clark,” he says eventually, forcing a smile.  “It’s seems that you’ve had a rough day.”

Clark nods his agreement.  “It sure has been a strange one, that’s for sure.  I have to run, but I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Rather than being literal as Oliver thought he would, he watches as his brother saunters into the house—accidentally ripping the door right off its hinges and sending it flying—and comes out a minute or two later with his car keys swinging from his finger.  He had better not ask him which car is his. 

Thankfully, Clark doesn’t and Oliver watches as he gets into the burgundy Cadillac and drives—or rather speeds—off. 

“That can’t be Clark,” Oliver whispers to himself. 

 

***

 

When Lionel planned to use the artifact, he was not expecting to end up in the body of Clark Queen.  He hoped to end up in his son’s body and watch as Lex got a taste of what is was like to not only be in a cage but also to slowly be wasting away.  That plan didn’t work out, but Lionel can’t say he’s thoroughly disappointed. 

Clark Queen certainly has taste.  Lionel isn’t sure how he feels about the color red, but the silk Burberry shirt and black slacks along with the polished loafers are quite nice.  And the kid drives a Cadillac roadster.  Knowing the kind of man Robert Queen was, Clark must have worked hard to earn such a vehicle.  Lex should be grateful.  All those Porsches, all the fancy Scotches, all the money…he barely earned all of that. 

He constantly puts out lousy attempts at showing himself to be a good businessman, but he lacks the experience and the willingness to do everything that is necessary.  He lets his emotions influence his judgment.  Lex has not learned that in order to become a great man, he must sever emotional ties.  He has to be able to make hard judgment calls without being concerned about how it affects people. 

It’s a weakness that Robert Queen shared.  However, Lionel had to admit that Robert was a shrewd businessman.  He might have doted upon his sons a bit too much, but that man knew how to run a business.  At the time of his and his wife’s tragic passing, _Forbes_ listed Robert Queen as being richer than Lionel!  Since Clark was thought to have been the only Queen left at the time, he had garnered an enormous fortune left behind by his parents.

Lionel could use that wealth to his advantage.  He suspects that the Queen boys have been working out how they divide their fortune—whatever sum it may be—but Lionel figures that, once he gets ahold of Clark’s bank account information, he can add some of it to his account.  Or perhaps, since he is in Clark Queen’s body, he could take the money from both accounts to form a new one. 

For right now, Lionel needs to get into LuthorCorp’s company database.  He figures he can use one of the computers at the high school.  He hopes that things turn out well; he already failed to have his money transferred over the phone due to not being able to provide a voice recognition test. 

He’s going to have to take care of that later.

Eventually, Smallville High comes into view.  This school certainly lacks a certain flair that Lionel’s high school alma mater had.  He parks the Cadillac in the nearest parking space he can find.  It isn’t a school day, but there do seem to be a few people here.  Students at football and cheerleading practice, a few overachievers studying here instead at a library, and now him.

Lionel wastes no time as he heads into the school and looks for the Torch office.  When he does, he is pleased to see that a light is still on.  It’s also empty.  She, along with Clark Queen, might have cheated and double-crossed him when he discovered that they were feeding him false information about Clark, but he does have to admire how they decorated this office. 

He figures Clark joined the school newspaper to keep his little girlfriend, Chloe Sullivan, company, but the two of them seem to have set up their own little areas in the office.  Before Lionel realizes what is happening, he realizes he is _seeing through_ all the objects in the room! 

“Oh, my goodness,” he whispers.  “All the secrecy makes sense now.”  He carefully inspects the room.  Something in one of the desk drawers catches his attention.  As quickly as it happened, the…x-ray vision stops and he sees things normally again.  He goes over to that drawer and opens it. 

The thing that caught his attention is a framed photograph.  He’s not sure when it was taken, but it depicts a younger Clark Queen smiling at the camera with his parents and Oliver and they look like they are at a beach.  “How sentimental,” Lionel says.  He squeezes the picture and shocks himself as the glass of the frame shatters under his hand. 

“Oops,” he mutters.  “Oh, well.”  He can make a mental note of sending the photograph to the prison, to give the boy something to enjoy and reminisce about before he succumbs to the disease that would have killed him instead.

He drops the photograph back in the drawer and shuts it.  Then he takes a seat behind one of the computers and turns it on.  Thankfully, it was already on and the monitor was all that was turned off.  He opens the browser and types in LuthorCorp’s webpage used by associates.  After clicking on it, the login screen comes up. 

He types in his username and password.  His lips curl up into a sneer as the word “invalid” flashes across the screen.

“Lex changed the password,” he states.  Of course he did.  Without thinking, Lionel slams his fist down on the desk, sending several splinters flying. 

A minute or two later, the lights to the Torch office flip on and he looks up.  It’s Chloe Sullivan herself. 

“What?  Is cooking no longer a passion of yours?”

Maybe it’s the teenage hormones that he suddenly has, but her snarky question doesn’t annoy him as much as he thinks it should.  In fact, he’s never realized just how pretty she is.  Her hair, while still short, no longer has a cropped, punk subculture quality to it.  Now it has a little bit of quality to it that actually shows a bit of mature, if not professional, beauty to it.  He can’t say the same for her outfit which consists of a green wide-strapped sleeveless shirt that has some of her belly exposed and black pants with a wide brown belt.  He can also make out the outlines of a black-fringed bra underneath the straps of her shirt.

 _What is it with Clark Queen and his passion for cooking?_ Reluctantly, Lionel realizes he might have to doing something about his own poor cooking skills if he’s going to keep up this charade.

“Whoa, who pulled a Paul Bunyan on the desk?” marvels Ms. Sullivan—Chloe—as she closes some of the distance between them.  She raises her eyebrows at him.  “Clark, it’s normal for people to get frustrated with computers, but that doesn’t mean you can go around ruining school property.”

 _So, Ms. Sullivan seems to know_ all _about Clark Queen_.  “I guess I wasn’t thinking,” Lionel says, putting on a little bit of remorse.  He leans back, feeling conversational.  “You know, Chloe, I’m concerned about your wellbeing.”

Chloe gapes at him as she heads over to her own desk.  “Oh, yeah?  Why’s that?”

Lionel turns in his chair so he can face her.  “If Lionel Luthor managed somehow to get out of prison, what do you suppose he’d do?  With you, I mean?”  Lionel can think of a few things.  With this apparent strength that Clark Queen possesses, he could probably rip Chloe in half with his bare hands.  He could hire some very bad people who would make her disappear and make her death last for weeks, or even years.  He could pin her down and break each of her bones while taking a five-minute break in between each bone.  His mind is racing with ideas!

Chloe scoffs as she leans on the desk.  “Why, has the Lionel Luthor alert suddenly been elevated to orange?”

Lionel smiles up at her dangerously.  She doesn’t know the half of it.

She catches that smile and frowns.  “Do you know something I don’t?”

 _I am Lionel Luthor_ , he could say.  He slides closer to her in his chair.  “No,” he replies, playing ignorance.  “But it never hurts to be cautious.”

Chloe laughs, placing a hand on her hip.  “Well, I’m not exactly shaking in my sneakers.  Lionel won’t be able to go for parole until he’s a hundred and twelve.  So…”

Lionel smiles as he gets up.  “You never know,” he implies quizzically.  “He could get out sooner than you think.”  He closes some of the distance between her, cutting into what could be considered an intimate closeness.  Chloe begins to back away.

“Okay, I think maybe our neighborhood boy-billionaire has let some of those superpowers turn to super-worry,” she says.  She really isn’t succumbing to his little mind games.  Lionel realizes he might have to step up his game.

“Maybe,” he agrees.  “I do feel as though I may be looking through a different pair of eyes,” which is perfectly true.  “I certainly see you in a whole new light.”  She is distractingly beautiful.  Lionel may even be beginning to see why Clark dated her for what must have been at least a year.  Or maybe it was a year and a half?

Chloe perks up at that statement.  “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” she challenges.  “Have I gone from ex-girlfriend that you’re trying to rebuild a relationship with to something different?”

Lionel gapes at that.  So they are trying to give their romance a second try.  How noble of Mr. Queen.  “Something like that,” he answers quietly.   He backs her up so that her back is against the desk.  “I can’t help think about how fascinating you are.  The twinkle in your eyes…”  He reaches up with a delicate finger and caresses her cheek lightly.  He has her entrapped and he can feel a tightness steadily forming in his groin.  “Your wonderfully sexy smile…your skin…”

Chloe blinks, probably trying to snap out of her haze.  “Clark, what are you doing?” she whispers.

Lionel descends towards Chloe’s lips.  “Something I should’ve done a long time ago…” 

Chloe closes her eyes and tilts her face up, hoping to meet his kiss.  Lionel could pull away right now.  He could walk off while she is still in this haze.  No, that would be too quick.  His lips graze against Chloe’s.  Her hand reaches up and lightly cups his cheek as she holds him against her lips. 

The poor bitch thinks he’s Clark.  He can indulge her for a minute.  His tongue slides forward and she opens her lips, allowing him access into her mouth.  Immediately he tastes the minty and coffee-stained depths of her mouth.  She moans against his mouth.

Time’s up.  Without warning, he pulls away.  It sends her off-balance and she stares up at him in confusion as she steadies herself. 

“Why would anyone ever want to kiss or date you?” he whispers cruelly.  The shock in her eyes should receive a standing ovation.  With a smirk he brushes past her, but not before he whispers, “Ms. Sullivan.”

He saunters out of the Torch office and he swears he can hear her suppressing a few tears.  That was more fun than he had had in a long time.

He’s barely ten steps away from the office before he hears someone clapping slowly behind him.  Curious, he turns around. 

His eyes fall upon a tall, darkly—and fancily—dressed man.  Lionel assumes he’s staff.  What’s a high school staff member doing wearing a well-tailored Burberry suit? 

“I must say Mr. Queen, that that was quite a performance,” the man sounds Welsh.  “I had just finished up some of paperwork for the evening and I was on my way out when I passed by the Torch office.  At first, I felt congratulations were in order.  Ms. Sullivan was getting her ex-boyfriend back.  Then came all those mind games.  I have no tolerance for women being disrespected in such a way and Clark Queen does not disrespect women.”  The Welshman scoffs.  “You were going to continue this charade you could at least have left out the part where you said ‘Ms. Sullivan.’”  

Lionel gulps.  “Who are you?”

A wicked, toothy smile spreads across the Welshman’s lips.  “Lucifer Morningstar and you, douchebag, are not Clark Queen,” he declares emphatically. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It feels very weird delving into Lionel Luthor's head. I hope I delivered. Oh and I know I changed the time of Steve Trevor’s death, but Diana deserved to have her man longer than she did in the movie.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

_Interlude:  MetU seven days ago_

_Lois trudges back to her dorm room.  Last lecture of the day and it just had to be the longest one.  Listening to the professor drone on and on about the history of investigative journalism was nothing if not enervating.  He could at least have made it interesting.  Chloe was the one to convince her to take up a journalism degree, to nurture her talent for investigative journalism.  Lois has complained through email and coffee dates with her and Clark and Oliver Queen that she was starting to feel that good journalism isn’t just something that you learn in a classroom or lecture hall.  At the same time, she accepts that part of her is simply saying that because her professor is a boring chatterbox._

_She arrives at her dorm room and stands in front of it for a minute.  Her shoulders rise and fall as she exhales dramatically.  As soon as it escapes her lips, she feels like somebody who just did a hard day’s work.  Like Clark and Oliver after having finished up a day’s work at the Kent farm.  She still thinks that the two of them, as rich as they are, look so out of place helping out at a farm.  Her initial thought was that they were just a couple of opportunists seeking to gain approval from a couple of farmers.  As it turns out, that thought couldn’t have been farther from the truth.  Jonathan and Martha Kent are like family to the Queen boys._

_Aside from doing a few days’ work every week, the Queens and the Kents have dinner with each other every week.  It’s also quite adorable seeing how they play with the Kents’ daughter, Claire.  If she didn’t know any better, she would say that Claire Kent was Clark and Oliver Queen’s little sister._

_Maybe it was a natural part of her, but Lois found herself looking for dirt on the Queen Brothers.  Based on her research, the last time any one of them appeared in the tabloids was about six months before Oliver Queen disappeared.  There was a nasty breakup with an amateur IT girl named Felicity Smoak.  As per her impulsiveness, she asked about it—with Clark.  The tabloids said that Oliver cheated on her with some police detective’s daughter.  The truth of the matter was that it was Felicity Smoak who cheated on him with some brainiac named Raymond Palmer._

_Lois felt awful.  Not just because she almost opened an old wound, but also because she really considers the Queens her friends._

_Lois thinks she’s spent about five minutes standing in front of her dorm.  She’s tired.  She knows she should get an early start on her homework, but right now all she wants to do is rest.  She gets out her room key and puts it in the keyhole.  When she turns the key, she realizes that the door is already unlocked.  She knows she remembered to lock the door._

_Feeling apprehensive, Lois tenses up, ready for a fight as she slowly opens the door.  When she steps inside, her apprehension quickly melts into disgust._

_“Hi, Dad,” she greets dispassionately.  He sits there in his Army fatigues on her bed.  At least he had the sense to not smoke in a nonsmoking area.  “Did you forget to knock before you walk into someone’s dorm?”_

_General Sam Lane raises an eyebrow at her.  “That’s no way to greet your father, Lo.”  He gives the room a look around.  “This place could really use a cleanup.”_

_Embarrassment momentarily floods Lois as she becomes hyperaware of the clothes strewn everywhere and miscellaneous junk from her toys to old essay drafts littering the place.  “What are you going to do—make me scrub the place with a toothbrush?”  He has made her do that in the past.  One of his favorite forms of punishment would be making her and Lucy scrub some of the soldiers’ barracks with standard toothbrushes.  How she hated the hand cramps that it always gave her._

_The snarky question puts a scowl on her father’s face and she’s reminded of the general he is.  She could easily anger him just by insulting his rank.  She can remember saying something along the lines of “Three-star general and a no-star gentleman.”  That pissed him off greatly._

_“How are your studies going?” her father asks in what, in his case, counts as conversational._

_Lois shrugs as she sets down her backpack.  “Boring professors, boring classes, pointless homework…I might as well have been given all the worst teachers.”_

_Her father raises his eyebrows.  “Playing the victim?  That’s not like you, Lo.”  He is right, but who says that Lois Lane can’t bitch about life once in a while?_

_“Why are you here, Dad?” asks Lois.  “You can’t expect me to believe that you are just here because you want to share dinner.”_

_For a minute, she thinks the general actually looks a little hurt.  As quickly as it comes though, his face soon returns to its typical sternness.  Yes, even when the general is offering some Delta force dude a commendation he still looks angry about something._

_“I did want to share dinner with you,” he clarifies.  “In fact, I made reservations to an exclusive restaurant downtown.  I expect you to clean yourself up and wear something nice.”_

_“Is that an order?” asks Lois meekly._

_“If you want it to be,” her father sneers.  “And there is something else that I need from you.”_

Of course there is.  _“What do you want?”_

_The general stands up and goes to gaze out the window with his hands clasped behind his back.  Add a bit of screaming, he would be just like a drill sergeant.  “You’re becoming close with the Queen Brothers, aren’t you?”_

_Lois gulps.  “They’re my friends.”_

_“Something is off about them,” explains the general.  “I need you to grow closer to them.  Find out everything you can about them.”_

_Lois wants to throw some heavy at him.  “You want me to spy on my friends?”_

_“That’s a harsh way of saying it, but yes,” he replies bluntly.  “I don’t trust them.  First Oliver Queen is found on an island in the middle of the Pacific and then his brother, who no one had seen or heard from for most of the summer, reappears as well.  In fact, his whole adoption process looks very fishy to me.”_

_“And you want me to dig up their secrets,” Lois sums up.  “Why not have Chloe do it?”  While Chloe idolizes Nellie Bly, Lois idolizes Chloe.  Lois always felt that her cousin was the better reporter.  She’s also a lot better with computers._

_“Your cousin is in too deep with them,” explains the general.  “As far as I can tell, she might even be one of their best secret-keepers.”_

_“Dad, they aren’t even criminals,” Lois protests.  “Go online; read through police reports between here, Smallville, Star City, and Princeton and you’ll find that they have never even spent a night in jail.  Everybody has secrets; what makes you so interested in the Queens and their secrets?  Is it just because I happen to like hanging out with them?”  Come to think of it, she remembers a few incidents in her childhood when she tried to befriend people outside of the military compounds she lived in only to find out her dad had started digging up dirt on them._

_“Some is off about them, Lois,” her father repeats.  “You’re the best at what you do and if anyone can find out everything there is to know about them, it’s you.”_

I don’t know if I’m the best, _she argues to herself.  “And if I refuse to dig into my friends’ pasts?”_

_The general is silent for a few minutes.  “You remember that time when you were about…sixteen I think it was, you and some of your friends turned all of that Navy admiral’s dress whites pink?”_

_Lois almost laughs at the memory.  The admiral was furious._

_“I never did tell him who was behind it.”  The general turns around and stares hard into Lois’ eyes.  “You don’t want that to change do you?  The man still seeks retribution.”_

_Lois tries to scowl at him, but it’s hard not shrink from her father’s intense gaze.  She can’t believe she is saying this.  “Fine, I’ll do whatever you want,” she sneers, each word tasting like bile._

_“Good, now clean up and be ready for tonight’s dinner at nineteen hundred hours,” her father orders before stepping outside of her messy dorm.  As she slumps down onto her bed, she can’t help but feel even messier._

_She hopes that whatever “secrets” Clark and Oliver are hiding aren’t incriminating.  She also hopes that they don’t find out that she’s beginning to investigate them.  She doesn’t want to lose their friendship._

Oliver doesn’t understand why he’s driving to Kansas State Penitentiary.  Ever since Lex brought Clark home, Clark has been acting weird.  The way his eyes lit up at the mention of Martha Kent.  The way he refused to cook.  The way he spoke.  It was all off.  Even the way he drove was weird.  Clark is a confident driver, but he does tend to be on the excessively safe side.  The way Oliver saw Clark driving off earlier he might as well have been a street racer.

Something must have happened when he interrupted Lex’s encounter with Lionel.  Before long, the blanket of farmland fades into the less cheerful view that is the prison complex.  The rows and rows of fences topped with barbed wire, the watchtowers, the men with guns, the grey mostly windowless buildings, all create a very foreboding atmosphere.  Oliver isn’t coming here in chains or an orange jumpsuit, but then again, there is a reason why prisons offer a sense of unwelcome, of punishment.  Oliver even felt a bit of that atmosphere when his father took him and Clark to visit Alcatraz Island. 

Oliver drives up in his Ducati to the gate.  He shows the guard his ID and states his intention to visit Lionel Luthor.  He hopes that his name is enough to get him in.  Thankfully it is.  He finds himself a parking place and soon some correctional officer shows up to escort him inside. 

He is led to a receptionist and announces his intention to visit Lionel Luthor.  The receptionist reminds him that the visit is unscheduled.  Oliver says that that must have slipped his mind.  Surely they could make an exception for a “family friend” as he called himself.  It’s not terribly far off from the truth.

The reception gave him a long hard look.  Finally, she notifies someone to send for Lionel.  Another officer arrives and leads Oliver to the visiting area.  After patting him down and finding no concealed weapons, the buzzer sounds and the door slides open.  Oliver steps into the near-featureless room.  The room has about as much personality as a cardboard box.

Taking a seat at one of the tables, Oliver waits for Lionel.  He drums his fingers against the cold metal of the table.  After what feels like several grueling minutes, another buzzer sounds and Oliver straightens himself up. 

It’s almost like watching the boogeyman come in as Lionel comes into view.  He has definitely looked better.  His sickly appearance aside, it looks like he’s been roughed up quite a bit.  Oliver wonders if maybe a business deal had gone wrong.  He doesn’t suppose that the officers like Lionel Luthor any more than the other inmates do.

They probably let him get roughed up.

As their eyes meet, Lionel’s features light up a little.  When Lionel’s chains are removed, he nearly rushes over to Oliver.

“Oliver!” Lionel greets frantically.  “I’m so glad you’re here!”

Oliver steps back a little, putting a hand out to remind Lionel to keep his distance.  “I am going to ask you a question Luthor, and I want you to answer.”

Lionel shrugs, almost looking boyishly giddy.  “What do you want to know?”

“When I was seventeen, there was a girl I liked,” Oliver begins slowly.

Lionel smiles brightly.  “Helena Bertinelli!” he answers without hesitation.  “She was that crime lord’s daughter you dated and slept with.  You gave me two months’ worth of allowances in exchange for buying you condoms since you didn’t have any the first time you two slept together.”

Oliver’s cheeks turn a fiery red.  “Keep your voice down!” he shouts in a hushed whisper.

“It’s me, Oliver,” Lionel says.  “It’s Clark.”

Oliver is shaking his head.  “What the hell happened?”

Lionel— _Clark_ —shrugs.  “I don’t know.  The ringing I heard led me here and I saw Lionel and Lex talking.  I thought Lionel was going to hurt Lex with this.”  Clark’s hand disappears into his pocket and reemerges with a strange little stone.  Oliver recognizes the symbol on it.  “It’s a Kryptonian symbol, Oliver.  Remember before school, when I was Kal-El?”

Oliver nods.

“I flew and I broke into Lex’s plane and stole the other stone and placed it in a hidden room within the Kawatche Caves.  These stones are just like the ones that Dr. Swann was always talking about during my lessons with him.  I don’t know where Lionel found this one, but I think he was intending to use it to switch bodies with Lex, but instead he…”

“He got switched up with you,” Oliver finishes. 

Clark groans.  “Please tell me that Lionel isn’t causing trouble going around looking like me.”

Oliver shakes his head.  “If anything, he’s been sloppy.  He doesn’t know how to be Clark Queen.”

“What gave him away?” asks Clark. 

“He refused to cook the casserole for tomorrow’s dinner with Jonathan and Martha,” Oliver laughs quietly.  The brothers share a stifled laugh briefly.  However, the problem at hand returns to their thoughts.

“Oliver, you need to figure out a way to get Lionel to come back to the prison,” Clark instructs.  “I don’t need to remind you that I’m a little…locked up.”

Oliver nods.  “Yeah, I’ll see what I can do.”  He gets up to leave. 

“Oh, and Oliver,” Clark calls after him.  Oliver turns around.  “There’s a bunch of research in Lionel’s cell and not just about this stone.  I think Lionel Luthor knows more about me than any of us realize.”

Oliver considers that with dread.  The stone in Clark’s hand reminds him of the stone he got out of the safe in his dad’s office, the one he hasn’t even told Clark about yet.  It seems that even by themselves they are quite dangerous.  They can’t let anyone else get their hands on them.  If Clark is able to keep this one if—no _when_ he switches bodies with Lionel again, it’ll mean that they have all three stones. 

Why does that bother Oliver so much?

He tries to set that thought aside.  “I promise you Clark, you’ll get your body back,” and he always tries to keep his promises.  Then, without warning, he closes the distance between him and Clark and swings his fist at him as hard as he can. 

The force of the punch sends Clark flying out of his seat. 

“OUCH!” screams Clark, clutching his nose.  “What the hell was that for?”

Oliver smiles sympathetically.  “Believe me when I say that I am sorry you had to feel that, but if all goes according to plan, Lionel Luthor will be the one complaining about a broken nose.”  He finishes with a bright smile.

Clark glares up at him briefly.  “Well in that case hit me again; these guards don’t seem to care what happens to Lionel Luthor.”

Oliver grins wickedly as he takes off his leather jacket.  “You asked for it, buddy.”  He really doesn’t like the idea of hurting his little brother, but he will enjoy a chance to rough up Lionel Luthor.    

 

***

 

Chloe couldn’t believe this.  Everything was just happening way too fast.  First she shows up at the Torch office to finish up some drafts for the school’s newspaper where she finds Clark.  Then Clark starts asking her all these weird questions before tempting her with what a primitive part of her hoped would be a steamy kiss.  Then he backs away when she’s least expecting it, making her feel like dirt and causing her to mentally invent all these reasons why she’s hideous and unlovable.  Finally, she overhears Mr. Morningstar stop him and say the words,

“You are not Clark Queen.”

Upon hearing those words, she began to see that the man who played with her mind and feelings was not Clark.  Wiping her eyes, Chloe reaches into file cabinet and grabs a lead box before stepping out of the Torch office to witness the encounter.   

“What do you mean, I’m not Clark Queen?” asks Clark—or whoever he is. 

“Exactly what I said,” replies Mr. Morningstar as if he were speaking to a stupid child.  “Among other things, Clark Queen knows me well enough that he wouldn’t have to ask what my name is.”

“I had accident,” argues Clark.  “A few things slipped my mind.”

Mr. Morningstar scoffs.  “You seem immune when I ask you what you desire, but Clark Queen is a better liar than that.”  His expression turns into a very terrifying scowl.  Or maybe it just looks terrifying to Chloe because he always seems to be smiling about something.  “Now I will ask this only once:  Who are you and what happened to the _real_ Clark Queen?”

Chloe answers for him.  “Lionel Luthor,” she says her voice full of contempt.  Without warning, she opens the lead box.  The effect is immediate.  Lionel keels over and his eyes fall to the green rock inside the lead box. 

“So that’s what can harm Clark Queen,” he sums up through gritted teeth.

Chloe doesn’t even care that Mr. Morningstar is witnessing this.  “Where is Clark Queen?”

Lionel laughs as the pain brings him to the ground.  “Oh, pretty soon your Clark won’t be anywhere.”

Chloe shakes her head.

Lionel rolls his eyes.  “I was dying, Ms. Sullivan.  I wasn’t planning on becoming Clark Queen, but up till now I was enjoying it.”

Chloe scoffs.  “You don’t know enough about Clark to be able to be him.  What were you going to do?  Learn to cook?  Go to high school?  Be Oliver Queen’s little brother?  Date girls Clark’s age?  Do farm work a few times a week?”

Another pained laugh escapes Lionel’s lips.  “You’re probably right.  I can barely cook to save my life among other things.  And I would never settle for work with some pigheaded farmer who doesn’t even deserve the woman he married.”

Chloe grimaces at the implications.  However, it’s Mr. Morningstar who speaks up. 

“You and Martha Kent?” he laughs.  “Do you seriously think you can come between that woman and Jonathan Kent?  You have got to be one of the stupidest men I ever met.”

“Says the man in Burberry who settled for a job as a guidance counselor!” Lionel fires back.

“And father and proprietor of the Talon,” he adds.  “I don’t need a lavish nightclub in my life right now and my stint as a police consultant ended with the death of my wife.”

“Boohoo,” Lionel mocks. 

Chloe doesn’t think he should have done that.  Before she can back away, Mr. Morningstar closes the distance between them and his hand wraps around Lionel’s neck and lifts him so that his feet are dangling in the air. 

 _Is this guy a mutant?  Or a meteor freak?_ Chloe wonders.  He definitely seems strong enough to be able to choke Clark Queen, or at least someone in Clark Queen’s body.

“Don’t you dare insult the death of my wife,” Mr. Morningstar warns dangerously.  “Now, about this body-switching situation, you are going to tell us how to reverse the effects…now.”

Lionel scoffs as he struggles against Mr. Morningstar’s hand.  “What are you going to do, kill me?”

“Oh, heavens no!” Mr. Morningstar laughs.  “But I and Ms. Sullivan here can make things very uncomfortable for you.”

Then something strange happens.  Chloe covers her eyes as a bunch of light begins to emit from Clark’s body.  Then it looks like some sort of spirit or whatever lifts away from the body.  At the same time, from out of nowhere, another spirit comes and slams into Clark’s body.  The force of it knocks Chloe and Mr. Morningstar back several feet. 

When Chloe’s eyes swim back into focus, she sees Clark’s body lying on the ground.  Worried, she gets up and rushes over to him.  Keeping the lead box close by in case something happens, she kneels next to Clark.

“Clark?” she asks. 

Clark groans as his eyes flutter open.  Soon they widen as he looks down at his hands and then his body.  Letting out a sigh of relief, he surprises Chloe with a hug. 

Not sure she really understands everything that has happened, Chloe hugs him back.  “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” replies Clark.  “One minute I’m in Lionel’s body and Oliver was beating the crap out of me and the next I found myself lying here.”  He pulls away just enough to stare into Chloe’s eyes.  “Did Lionel hurt you?”

Chloe hesitates with her answer.  How does she describe what Lionel did to her?  Her hesitation must be enough as Clark pulls her back into a hug.  Chloe then releases the tears she didn’t realize she was holding back.  She wraps her arms around him and he hugs her more tightly. 

“I really don’t mean to interrupt this tender moment, but could somebody please explain to me everything that just happened?” asks Mr. Morningstar.

Clark and Chloe break apart slightly and stare up at the sharp-dressed man.  Then they exchange a look.  They are going to have to explain everything, it looks like.  

  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It might seem a little far-fetched, but if anyone remembers, Edgar Cole told Lionel that there was a chance that the transference wouldn't be permanent and Lionel intended to kill Clark while he was still in his body.


	16. Chapter Fifteen

_October 31 st, 1998_

_Halloween, the one day of the year when kids can beg for candy, put on silly costumes, and carve pumpkins.  Even when people grow out of the “trick-or-treating” part, they still retain the costume part and more often than not, candy is present at parties, along with beer or wine depending on where you go.  Clark and Oliver have grown out of the trick-or-treating part, but they do put on costumes sometimes._

_I will probably tease Oliver for a long time for this.  He and Oliver engage in harmless bets sometimes.  I’m not sure how where the line is drawn before humiliation stops being harmless.  The boys’ latest bet could probably fall on the harmless spectrum._

_I can’t get either one of them to tell me what the bet was.  It would be a weak reason to ground Clark for not telling me.  Whatever it was, Oliver lost the bet and he ended up dressing up as Wonder Woman.  He even had his legs shaved and his hair dyed black.  He faxed me a high-quality picture of it._

_I showed it to Laura and she choked on a glass of champagne.  In all honesty, I don’t think Oliver ever looked more handsome.  He could make a good drag queen if he wanted to.  Oliver sent a colorfully worded email promising retribution and calling Clark evil.  Clark, who wore a red and blue costume with a hood that Martha Kent helped him make, was completely unconcerned._

_In fact, he enjoyed being considered “evil.”  He even went so far as to add a “Mwa ha ha.”  Why was I momentarily scared to death?  Perhaps it’s just the facts that are present.  He’s strong, he’s fast, and he is really good with throwing knives, fencing, and using a bow.  Who knows?  I get the feeling that as he grows older, more and more powers will start to appear.  I guess, there’s just that thought in the back of my mind._

_What if Clark doesn’t continue to grow to be a good person?  What if, despite the nurture of my wife and I, and even the Kents, who I recently asked how they felt about me naming them my sons’ godparents, he turns his back on us? I haven’t voiced these concerns with anyone other than Laura and Virgil.  Laura reminds me to have faith in our son.  Virgil, with whom Clark has started taking weekly lessons with, also reminds me to have faith in my son._

_Clark may be unbelievably powerful and he may not be from Earth, but he is just as capable of choosing right from wrong as anybody else._

_I think part of my skepticism comes from Lionel Luthor.  The partnership that we share, at least for me, is strained.  Technically, there haven’t been any incidents for me to justifiably suspect that he means ill will towards, me but I barely trust the man._

_Recently, scientists within our joint operation have discovered something quite interesting.  There have been studies showing people in Smallville showing mutant abilities caused by the meteor rocks.  It sounds fascinating.  However, there were a few ethical issues that bothered me.  One of which was the idea of our company spying on people.  What are we, the FBI investigating possible criminals?  I ordered the operation shut down immediately._

_That caused a vicious argument between Lionel and I.  He saw the meteor-infected individuals as a potential threat to society.  On what grounds?  What have these people down to monitor them?  Or even bring some of them in, as Lionel not-so-subtly suggested?_

_They are people!  I gave Lionel an ultimatum:  Either he agreed to stop having meteor-infected people monitored and shut down the idea of bringing any of them in…or I would have our whole meteor rock operation eradicated.  I saw something that people rarely see without shrinking:  I saw Lionel Luthor truly angry.  He quietly warned me to be careful.  Shutting down this project would hurt me as much as it would hurt him.  I stood firm.  The minute our business ventures stop being ethical is the minute I draw the line._

_Lionel accepted.  Well, at least he said he accepted._

_Knowing him, I fear that I have given myself a death sentence in every possible sense of the phrase._

Clark was not planning on it, but another person has been added to his list of secret keepers.  He explained who he is and what he is in full detail to Lucifer Morningstar.  Strangely enough, he didn’t seem all that surprised.  In fact, Clark felt that he was confirming Mr. Morningstar suspicions.  To satisfy his curiosity, he asked Mr. Morningstar if he knew at all and how long he had known.

Mr. Morningstar, who insisted that Clark start calling him Lucifer outside of school, explained with much amusement and wonder that he witnessed Clark fly in the summer when he was just moving in to town.  Clark asked how he knew it was him.  It could have been something else. 

“You’re hard young man to read, Mr. Queen, but you can’t lie to me,” was Mr. Morningstar’s— _Lucifer’s_ —response.  He then promised that why he takes pride in being one who never lies, that Clark’s secret would not leave his lips.

Clark accepted that.  Afterwards, after the day that he had had, he just wanted to rest.  Spending a day in Lionel Luthor’s body was just too high on the weirdness meter for him.  He explained it in full detail to Chloe.  She was relieved.  When he asked why, she tearfully explained how Lionel—in Clark’s body—made a move on her, or at least pretended to. 

That infuriated Clark to the point that he just wanted to speed over to the prison and roast Lionel alive.  However, seeing how distraught Chloe was over the whole ordeal, he just wanted to comfort her.  He asked if she would like to come over to his house with him.  She accepted. 

Clark’s car was still at the school, so he and Chloe drove separately.  As he drove, he kept staring out his rearview mirror at her.  Focusing his hearing on her, he could hear her crying.  Every minute that it took to drive to his house was painful.  More than anything, he wanted to pull over, make her stop as well, and comfort her.  The ways he thought of doing so caused tightness in his groin and he forced himself to think other thoughts. 

 _Sex, or at least a make-out session, is not what she needs right now, damn it,_ he told himself.  Still, the thought of touching her, memories of getting intimate with her, flooded his mind. 

Thankfully, his house came within sight before things got too weird for him.  Apparently, Oliver got home before he did and Oliver confronted him. 

Oliver asked him what their mother always used to say to them before heading off to do something fun. 

“Be safe, have fun, and please don’t put an arrow in anybody.”

That was proof enough.  Oliver then handed Clark the stone.  Clark promised to explain more about it later, but right now he just needed to be a friend for Chloe.  However, Clark did wonder why the change was temporary.  He would have to sift through his memories from when Dr. Swann spoke to him of the Stones of Power. 

It didn’t matter to him at the moment.

What he wanted to do right now was comfort Chloe. 

He talked her into sitting with him in his backyard and roasting marshmallows while enjoying the crisp night air.

“So, let me get this straight,” Chloe was saying as she sat on the lounge chair with a quilt around her shoulders.  “You heard this sharp ringing which led you to Kansas State Penitentiary of all places where Lionel Luthor switched bodies with you with just some magic rock?”

“Magic rock sounds a little mundane, but yeah,” replies Clark.  “Remember that hidden room in the Kawatche Caves?”

Chloe nods.  “During the summer, I found another one of those crystals and placed it in there.  There’s slots for two more including this one.” He shows her the crystal. 

She carefully takes it from him with her free hand as the other one has a campfire rod.  She looks it over thoughtfully.  “Interesting,” is all she says before handing it back to him.  “What was it like spending time in Lionel’s body?”

Clark grimaces.  “I felt ill, apparently Lionel owed money to some convict with two life sentences, I got beaten up not just by Oliver, but by a number of inmates, and I found out that Lionel knows more about me—or at least my heritage—than I think even he realizes.”  He watches Chloe as he speaks to her, watching as her expression goes from amusement, to sympathy, and finally to worry.

“Let’s be glad he’s in prison then,” she comforts. 

“Yeah,” Clark agrees.  He reaches out to grasp her hand, but she shrinks away.  He cocks his head.  “Chloe?”

Chloe closes her eyes with a sigh as fresh tears build up.  “I’m sorry, Clark, I know that it’s you, but can you please not touch me right now?”

“I’m not going to hurt you, Chloe,” Clark promises softly.  “I would never hurt you.”

Chloe smiles sadly.  “I know, but after the way Lionel played with my emotions—while looking like you—I just can’t stop picturing what he would have done to me.  Since I thought it was you for just a moment, I probably would have let him do whatever with me.  Now it just feels like…”

A long silence stretches and Clark suspects that the word she can’t seem to form is _rape_.  He wants to comfort her somehow.  “Chloe…” he gets up and gently closes the distance between them.

“Clark, please don’t,” she protests weakly. 

He ignores her and gently brings her to her feet, wrapping his arms around her in a loving embrace.  She pushes against him weakly, but he doesn’t budge.  Eventually, she completely breaks into tears and lets him hug her.  In fact, she hugs him back.  Usually, at least lately, she hasn’t let herself be much of a victim, but it would seem that Lionel really knows how to play with people’s emotions.  Clark thinks that he might as well be a sociopath. 

He pulls away from Chloe just a little and she stares up at him.  How he always enjoyed getting lost in the green depths of her eyes.  He reaches up with a delicate finger and wipes away her tears.  Her breath hitches in her throat as his head slowly descends to meet her lips.  He’s about to kiss her, something he had not realized that he had been waiting to do for some time. 

At the last second though, Chloe reaches up with her own hand and places it against his lips.  Clark opens his eyes and looks down at her, confused. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks. 

“We can’t do this Clark,” Chloe says, shaking her head and breaking away from his embrace. 

“I’m sorry, maybe I should have taken things a little slower,” Clark apologizes. 

Chloe sighs as she looks down.  “No, Clark, we can’t do _this_.” She gestures to the two of them.  “We can’t do us,” she whispers.

Clark feels like someone just dropped a semi-truck on his head.  “What?” his voice sounds really small in his ears.  “Are…are you saying you don’t want…?”

Chloe nods tearfully.  “Clark, you were an awesome boyfriend, better than I think any girl deserves.  I loved being in a relationship with you, but…I just don’t think that I can be that for you right now.”

“Of course you can, Chlo,” Clark argues.  “I love you.”

Chloe looks like she was planning on stopping him from saying that, but reacted too late.  “I love you too, Clark.”

“But you just don’t feel like you can be my girlfriend,” Clark sums up soberly.

A sad smile spreads across Chloe’s lips.  “Call me selfish, but boyfriend or not, you’ll always be my favorite guy in this whole planet.  You’re the only person that I want to call my best friend.”

 _She pulled the friendship card on me_ , Clark says to himself.  It’s just like right after the Spring Formal.  “Wait,” he says as an epiphany hits him.  “How do I know that you’re not just putting up your defenses again?  I know it took a little help from my parents at the time, but I’m more mature now.  You’re just hoping I’ll fight for you…aren’t you?”

A hiccupping laugh escapes Chloe’s lips.  “You’re good Clark.”  Her laughter disappears.  “But no, that’s not the case this time.”

Clark nods gravely.  He tries not to show it, but his breath starts to ache as tears threaten to surface.  He turns away from her and glances out into the night.  He feels Chloe’s hand slip around his arm.

“You made me feel beautiful, Clark Queen,” she promises him.  “I hate seeing you cry, but you still mean so much to me—too much to me.  In all honesty, I don’t know if I’ll ever find somebody half as great as you are.”

 _At least she’s not pulling the “it’s not you, it’s me” crap_ , Clark thinks, trying to find a positive side to this.

“I suppose you’re going home now?” he asks softly.

“Yeah,” replies Chloe.  “Do you think we should avoid each other for a little while?”

“No,” Clark replies quickly.  “That’s not something that ever really worked well for either of us.”

Chloe smirks, probably in agreement.  “Well then, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Clark nods.  “Yeah, sure.”

Without looking back, he hears Chloe walk away, sounding as tearful as he does.  “Chloe,” he calls after her as he turns around. 

Chloe stops and turns slightly.

“Maybe I’m not the one you love today, but hopefully we’ll find our way back to each other someday?” he asks hopefully.  He doesn’t know how long either of them will live, but he knows that, given the amount of kryptonite surrounding her heart, she’s always perfectly healthy.  He remembers hearing that she might not even age much if at all from this point on.  “I think you’re worth the wait, Chloe Sullivan.”

Chloe smiles sadly.  “And I you, Clark Queen.”  She disappears around the corner of the house and listens as she departs.  Hearing her sobs, he finally lets his own tears loose.

 

***

 

At the Talon, Lucifer fills the coffeehouse with a gentle melody.  Many of these silly teenagers don’t seem to enjoy the complicated strains of Rachmaninoff—not that he cares—but for some reason this evening he wants to please them. 

So he settled on playing a deviation of Simon and Garfunkel’s “Sound of Silence.”  It’s a fun piece to play, one that’s been covered many times.  He doesn’t add any of his own singing to it.  Feeling like it adds to the atmosphere of the song, he barely opens his lips.  His focus swims between the ivory keys under his fingers, to the cappuccino on top of the piano, to simply closing his eyes and losing himself to the melody. 

While his fingers continue to create music, his mind drifts off to memories of playing the piano in his loft at Lux.  He wouldn’t be wearing much, maybe his underwear and pants that had been discarded sometime the night before.  Out of the corner of his eye, he would see his detective, his love, Chloe Decker as she came out wrapped in the bedspread or wearing nothing but his Geir Ness scented shirt. 

Sometimes he wondered if he could arouse her just by playing the piano and smiling at her in just the right way.  He is sure that that had worked with many a woman, but his Chloe was the only woman he grew to care about arousing.  

He’s never desired to arouse another woman since.  He hasn’t even had sex since her passing.  The song almost feels like a peek into his soul and he feels naked to his audience.  His heart beats eternally, but he’s long since lost some of the vigor that often accompanied it.  He was painfully reminded of that fact when he was so rudely insulted by Lionel Luthor in Clark Queen’s body. 

Trixie and Emma are his pride and joy in life, but he never wanted to raise them alone.  He was meant to raise them with his lovely detective by his side.  Yet, he still lies awake at night, wishing he would hear her voice.  He still hopes that she would just slip into his bedroom having forgotten to wear a blouse or bra under her blazer, arresting him simply for being so handsome.  She would then interrogate his body with her mouth and hands, but would agonizingly prolong the accompanying orgasms.  He didn’t come unless she “proved he was guilty of being a stunning devil.”  He prefers the word “angel” but devil always sounded quite sexy coming from her lips. 

He brings the song to a close and is oblivious to the cheers.  If anything, they feel painful in his ears as he takes a sip of his now lukewarm cappuccino.  He grimaces as he sips it.  “Oh, pity.”

“Need some help with that?”

Lucifer spins around and his eyes fall upon Clark Queen.  In spite of his inner turmoil, he smiles at his young friend.  “Ah, Mr. Queen.”

“Please call me Clark,” he requests as he takes Lucifer’s cappuccino, makes sure no one is looking, and two distorted trails of…heat trail down from his eyes into it. 

“Clark, then,” Lucifer corrects himself as he tentatively takes the cappuccino back.  He takes a sip.  It’s hot.  “So, heat vision, eh?” he marvels quietly.  “What other hidden talents does the boy from another planet possess?”

“I prefer ‘intergalactic traveler,’” Clark mutters. 

Now Lucifer notices something is wrong.  “Are you all right?”

Clark shakes his head silently.  Actually feeling a bit of sympathy for the boy, a note of understanding spreads across Lucifer’s face.

“Mint mocha on the house?” he offers.

Clark laughs briefly.  “Sure.”

Lucifer turns around and heads over behind the counter.  When he finishes making Clark’s mocha, he finds Clark at a small round table. 

“Mind if I join you?” he asks as he brings the mocha. 

Clark raises his eyebrows.  “Do you always offer to sit down with somebody having a colossal bad day?”

Lucifer is smiling, but his eyes turn serious.  “Don’t insult my offer.”

Clark stares right back up at him, boring into the angel’s eyes.  “Take a seat.”

Lucifer accepts his invitation and sits down across from him.  “So, what’s on your mind?”

Clark launches into a bitter tale of everything that had happened to him that day.  From being in Lionel Luthor’s body, letting his brother beat the crap out of him, and finally his now “official” ex-girlfriend telling him that she wasn’t in the mood for a romantic relationship. 

Lucifer raises his eyebrows.  “That’s a lot to happen in one day,” he marvels sympathetically.  Why does he care so much about this young man?  Is it because he reminds him a little bit of his late wife?  Somebody trying to a good person, yet always seems to get tangled up with a bunch of misfortune?  Or perhaps he reminds him a little bit of himself—someone who looks, walks, and talks like everyone else, yet there’s still that aching sense of not really belonging anywhere.

“I told Chloe that she was worth the wait,” Clark explains.  “I’m not even sure if I really believe that.”

Lucifer scoffs.  “Don’t be such a down, Clark,” he admonishes gently, feeling his fatherly instincts kick in.  “If there is one thing I’ve learned in my long, long lifetime is that all things are possible.  Perhaps you and Ms. Sullivan will find your way back to each other, but until then something tells me that there’s another woman for you out there to fill that space.  At least for a time.”

Clark raises his eyebrows.  “And what makes you say that?”

Lucifer smiles wickedly as he takes a sip of his cappuccino.  “We’ll call it a hunch.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not changing my tags, but at this point, Clark Kent/Lois Lane can be a fitting description for this story. I am not caving into anyone's desires, and anyone who has read my other works knows that I am a die-hard Chlark fan, I am simply going with my original intent. That intent being writing my first Clois fic. Chlark may not be romantically involved, but I will continue to stress how much they mean to each other. And as much as I wanted to write a Chlark sex scene, it is way too cliche for couple to have sex and then break up. I wanted to show what I hope was an amicable, though intentionally ill-timed, breakup
> 
> Also, expect Clois to be a slow burn. Or at least I'll try to achieve that.
> 
> And I know that I gave some of Chloe's own words to Clark, but in this story they actually dated. So, there was no need for Chloe to write that (undeniably beautiful, let's please not argue) letter to Clark. 
> 
> I also made mention of Chloe's meteor power. At least to me, it makes sense that there would be a lot of kryptonite surrounding her heart after all the meteor rock she's been exposed to. However, I also think that the healing part of it was...what's a proper word for it? Unnecessary and it was a poor way of giving her a sense of angst in season seven. So, that part at least does not exist in this story.
> 
> Well, more chapters next weekend. And it's in developmental hell at the moment, but do expect another (though not directly related) Clark Queen story from me somewhere in the following weeks or couple of months. That one will likely be a lot more cheeky or crack!fic than this one


	17. Chapter Sixteen

_February 14 th, 1999_

_It’s Valentine’s Day, the one day of the year when people can present their affection in the form of sweets and everything red.  Being particularly fond of Godiva’s chocolate covered strawberries, I gave Laura a half-dozen chocolate strawberries in a plastic goblet with hearts and “I love you” all over it.  I also gave her a red dress from Carolina Herrera to wear to dinner._

_Feeling sentimental, I told her that she looked at beautiful as the day I met her.  I said it in front of Clark and Laura’s face turned as red as her dress.  Clark, who is growing into a very handsome young man, and who has gotten a large influx of “Will you be my Valentine’s,” got out one of the cameras and took photos of the two of us.  My wife and I might as well have been prepared to walk down the red carpet in Hollywood!  Photography does not fall under Clark’s list of talents, but he did take some really good pictures of Laura and I._

_I need to remember to send copies of them to Oliver at Princeton.  I try not to dwell on thoughts of Oliver right now.  I love him dearly, but a few weeks ago, we had a nasty fight.  Every so often when our schedules allow us to, I try to visit Oliver.  Between my duties as a CEO as well as being a tense business partner with Lionel Luthor, and Oliver’s intense studies, our meetings are few and far between.  Before our meeting back in January and of course Oliver’s return home for Christmas and New Year’s Eve, the last time we had a chance to actually visit was the beginning of December._

_I feel like I should take some of the blame for how the meeting went.  Recently, I discovered a stone in China.  Based on my studies with Virgil, it’s the crystal of Air.  It’s one of the stones of power that I believed to be a myth!  I made sure that I put it in a safe place that only I knew about.  I didn’t even tell Virgil anything about it._

_I suppose that it was ill-timed, but it prompted a discussion that I needed to have with Oliver.  The meeting started out quite innocently.  We shared a modest meal at a sandwich joint he really liked and he talked quite a bit about how his studies were going.  From all the fun that he said he was having, I sure hope he was keeping up with his studies.  I was teasing him, for I knew for a fact that he was doing well with his studies.  Still, it was fun seeing him get flustered and spew all kinds of reassurances that he was._

_When it came my turn, I told him that things were going well with Queen Industries.  It has certainly been one of our more profitable years.  However, I soon started speaking about what I had intended to discuss with him.  Now I don’t remember exactly what all I said to him, but I know I started talking about Clark with him._

_I could tell that Oliver was worried about where I was going with this lecture.  I wish I had been more mindful of that at the time.  He knew that Clark ~~was~~_ — _no_ is _special.  He also knew that Clark came from outer space.  However, Oliver didn’t know everything about his brother at the time.  I launched into a long story of how I, Dr. Virgil Swann, the Teagues, and even Lionel Luthor had been expecting Clark’s arrival for years.  I told Oliver about how we had this plan to nurture and mold him into what we felt would be a force for good.  What we didn’t know was that he would be no more than a little boy._

_I told Oliver of how Lionel had expressed his concerns about the potential threat that Clark posed and his desire to control him instead of guiding him.  I couldn’t let him get his hands on Clark.  I don’t know what would have happened to Clark—my Clark—if Lionel got his hands on him.  In spite of myself, I am sure that he would have turned out just as good a boy if the Kents were the ones who ended up raising him.  All I knew, all I have known, is that I just wanted Clark to be raised in a safe and loving environment._

_Oliver was uncharacteristically silent and unmoving as I told him my tale.  Since he had not spoken, I went on to say that what I needed from him was that someday he would have to protect Clark.  He would have to help Clark make his final steps in becoming who he is meant to be.  It’s completely up to Clark what he does in his life, but it’s important to me that he grows into a force for good._

_When I finally finished my ramblings, Oliver was still silent for several minutes.  Then I saw something that broke my heart—and made me feel like a monster:  I saw betrayal in Oliver’s eyes._

_“Are you telling me that my brother coming into my life was_ not _a happy accident? Was my becoming a big brother just the cherry on top of a grand scheme?  A carefully thought-out plan—no recipe—to make my brother into whatever the hell you wanted him to be?”_

_Every question that Oliver threw at me made me feel more and more despicable.  But the next few questions made me feel wretched._

_“What happens if Clark doesn’t become whatever you want him to be?  Is there some sort of contingency plan to get rid of him?  Are you going to euthanize him like some poor animal?  Are you going to put him somewhere where he’ll never see the light of day again?”_

_Oliver was in tears._

_“You know what I don’t give a_ fuck _if bringing Clark into our lives was just a trophy in a race you won.  If only to see how you’ll react, I hope that Clark_ doesn’t _become what you want him to be!  He’s my brother and if you do anything to him, I’ll take him away where you will never find him.”_

_He then got up and stormed out of the restaurant.  I followed after him.  I tried to explain that I do love his brother.  Clark is my son and his brother and nothing will ever change that.  For the past ten years almost, I feel like I’ve shown nothing but how much Clark is a member of our family._

_The last things that Oliver said to me were “What if he wasn’t a member of our family, Dad?  Can you look me in the eye and tell me that he wouldn’t have been better off with the Kents?  A family who would have had no pretenses in adopting Clark?  Other than simply worrying what would happen if people knew that his baby carriage came from outer space?  Goodbye, Dad.”_

_I haven’t seen or spoken to Oliver since.  I told Laura everything and, being the brutally honest wife that she can be sometimes, agreed that it was the wrong place and the wrong time.  However, I don’t think there ever could have been a right time to say all the things I had to say._

_Clark still keeps in touch with his brother at least._

_All I can think right now is when do I tell Clark?  How will he react?  Will he feel like a monster that I am trying to prevent from becoming monstrous?  Will everything he has to say be on par with what Oliver said?_

_All I can do now is pray that everything goes well.  And I hope that Oliver speaks to me again._

A few weeks have passed by since Chloe broke things off with Clark and she feels guilty.  She was absolutely honest with him.  She does love him more than any other man, and probably ever will again, but something told her that she wasn’t the kind of woman he needed in his life at the moment.  They both seem to have an indefinite lifespan, so she is holding onto the hope that someday they will find their way back to each other.  However, she has forced herself to bury that hope very deep—somewhere accessible when the time is right, but still very, very deep. 

Still she feels guilty.  When the news spread that Clark Queen was officially single, it seems that he became the target of just about every girl in school, even ones who were already in a relationship.  It also made her something of a pariah, or laughing stock depending on the girl. 

“What kind of girl would give up somebody like Clark Queen?” is the most prominent question floating around. 

Still very defensive of Clark, she would love to ask them if they so much as know Clark’s favorite color.  Clark almost exclusively wears blue, red, or black, but they are not his favorite colors.  No, Clark Queen’s favorite color is orange.  At least that’s the word he summed it up as.  Really, Clark’s favorite color—or colors—are the explosion of colors that you see during a summer’s sunset.  The way the dying sunlight would affect the colors of the sky, the clouds, and even the crops that blanket Smallville.  The part that always puts a smile on Chloe’s face is how he described the ways it reflected off her skin and hair and even her eyes. 

Selfishly, a part of her hopes that when he does find the woman for him that he doesn’t describe his favorite color to her that way.  Well at least not in that exact fashion.  The time that he described those colors to her, it was after one of the times they made love in the loft above his garage.

Preferences in things like color aside Chloe wonders how many girls actually know Clark?  How many of them know anything beyond what they see?  How many of them simply like him for reasons ranging from his handsome looks to his wealth? 

She could say that she feels obligated to make sure that Clark finds himself the right girl…even if it won’t be her. 

Things between them have been less awkward than they could have been.  Chloe feels that they might still be trying to find the line that separates best friend from girlfriend, but things have been relatively smooth.  A few incidents where things have gotten a little awkward are when one of them accidentally touches the other in a not-so-platonic fashion. 

A week ago, they were investigating some lady’s death that Lex had gotten himself involved in.  Clark and Lex’s friendship is a bit in limbo these days, but Clark felt obligated to help his friend.  Clark and Chloe ended up reenacting what might have been a makeout session in an elevator.  They almost kissed, but they were saved by the elevator opening to reveal a woman with her two young children. 

Perhaps without realizing it, it’s taking a little longer for them to not have any sexual tension between them.  Chloe knows Clark well enough that she doesn’t think that there will ever stop being sexual tension between them.  She just hopes that they will be able to, as Lois cleverly put it when she was lamenting about it, “put those feelings in a safety deposit box and put the key where you’ll remember where it’s at.”

Today, Chloe tells herself that she’s going to have a good day.  It would be nice if Lois were still here instead of at MetU.  It would be nicer not having to wait until the weekends when Lois comes to the Queen house.  She also promises herself that she will be civil with Clark and not let the teases of those around her get to her. 

Still being labeled “Clark Queen’s ex” feels like a Mark of Cain in this school.  The only person besides Clark who has offered any words of comfort is Mr. Morningstar. 

“You have no mark of Cain and you definitely are no scarlet letter,” he told her.  “If anything, you should feel proud of yourself.  You have the right to say that you dated Clark, so you might as well show these bitches your middle finger.” 

Chloe was so dumbfounded by his blunt advice that the tardy bell rang before her thoughts caught up with her.  However, when talking to Clark, who tells her that Mr. Morningstar has offered strange advice to as well, she’s beginning to appreciate his unorthodox advice.

On her way to the Torch office, Chloe witnesses the latest girl to try and win over Clark’s affection.  Blonde, haughty, pretty, and a big fan of the word “laters,” Dawn Stiles seems to have cornered Clark.  Actually interested to see how she reacts to rejection, Chloe stops and watches. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Lana has come to join her. 

She hears her scoff.  “If Dawn Stiles thinks she can win Clark’s affection, then she really is stupid.”

“Tell me about it,” Chloe agrees.  Out of the corner of her eye, she notices something.  When she turns to get a better look, she frowns.  Lana’s eyes are crusty and red around the edges.  It looks like she’s been crying.  “Is everything okay?”

Lana sighs heavily.  Chloe suspects that she was hoping she wouldn’t have to talk about it.  “My boyfriend and I broke up,” she explains quietly.

Chloe reaches out and puts her hand on her friend’s shoulder.  _Is it me or do breakups seem to be going around?_   The question rolls through Chloe’s head, but she doesn’t voice it.  She found out about Lana and Jason a couple of weeks after school began, but she promised to keep quiet about it.  “What happened?” she asks.

“That same time when Clark was acting strangely different, Mr. Morningstar caught Jason and I kissing,” replies Lana discreetly so that no one would accidentally hear the coach’s name.  “Mr. Morningstar promised he’d keep quiet about it so long as we did something for him in return, but the next day Jason and I broke up.  He said he loved me, but he didn’t want to continue putting me in a bad situation.  Plus, he really needs this job.”

Chloe squeezes Lana’s shoulder affectionately.  A year or two ago, she would have told her that Jason was stupid for getting a job at the high school while dating Lana.  Trial and error and almost losing Clark’s friendship freshman year taught her to put a filter on her need to say what she wants to say.  “I’m sorry,” is all she says instead.

Lana nods silently. 

Just as silently, the both seem to drop the subject and continue to watch Dawn talk Clark’s ear off.  Clark, standing there, tall and handsome in his red shirt and black blazer with his Burberry messenger bag slung over his shoulder, stares down at Dawn looking bored.  Among other things, Dawn seems impressed with Clark’s choice of designer clothes.

However, she mistakes his blazer for Armani.  It’s Burberry like his messenger bag.  She seems to be a bit of a control freak.  Not even waiting for an answer from Clark, she goes through a long list of instructions on where and when they would go on a date and in what manner he would pick her up from her house. 

“Dawn,” Clark finally says, cutting her off.  “I am not going out with you,” he enunciates.  Those who overheard him laugh, even her minions laugh. 

Dawn puts her hands on her hips and glares up at him.  “Excuse me?” she exclaims.  “What are you going to do?  Wait for another tabloid-spewing loser like Chloe Sullivan to come and sweep you off your feet?”

Chloe, to her surprise, sees that as a bit of a compliment.  Clark, on the other hand, glares down at Dawn. 

“Maybe I will,” he fires back.  “I’d rather date a—how’d you put it?—ah yes, a ‘tabloid-spewing loser like Chloe Sullivan’ than you any day of the week.”  He waves his fingers in a very prissy manner.  “Laters.”  He sweeps past her and leaves a trail of laughter behind him as he heads off to class.

“Nicely played,” Lana marvels. 

Chloe agrees.  She also knows that Clark doesn’t consider her articles to be tabloids.  She has seen his scrapbook of her articles. 

“Chloe!” Chloe and Lana turn around to face Dawn, surrounded by her minions.  _Does she ever wear anything other than pink?_ Pink lightweight double-breasted coat and off-brand skinny jeans, Dawn Stiles looks a bit like a Barbie doll complete with the bleached blonde hair.

 Chloe raises her eyebrows expectantly. 

“What are you playing at?” asks Dawn.

Chloe frowns.  “You’re going to have to be a lot more specific.”

“You and Clark Queen are over and yet he doesn’t seem to be moving on!” explains Dawn at hyper-speed.  “What are you doing to him?”

Chloe has to fight from laughing.  “I’m not doing anything to him,” she assures her patiently.  “Unlike superficial sluts like you, some people actually have mourning periods that last more than sixty seconds.”

Dawn scowls at her.  “Don’t take up any high ground with me; you’re the idiot who dumped him.”

A sharp intake of breath hits Chloe before she can stop herself.  “Yes we did break up, but he is still my best friend.  How many of your exes can you say are still your friend?  I’ve heard some of them say that you’re just annoying bitch and control freak with an annoyingly high-pitched voice.”

Dawn squeaks and her cheeks actually turn pinker than her coat.  “My voice is _not_ high-pitched!” she shrieks—in a high-pitched voice.  “My last boyfriend worshipped me.  _He_ was the loser who couldn’t seem to keep up with me.” 

By now a crowd has gathered around them, all of them probably expecting a fight to break out between them. 

Chloe shifts gears.  “Clark Queen is the one who rejected you.  I think you need glasses because you clearly couldn’t see how uncomfortable you were making him.  For all anybody around here knows, all you cared about was the idea of being the one attached to his arm.”  Chloe shakes her head sympathetically.  “I’m sorry Dawn, but you’re a bitch.  Clark Queen doesn’t date bitches.”  Chloe feels that she might have been bitchy at one point or another, but she’s enjoying this opportunity to humiliate this narcissus.

Now Dawn seems to have lost it.  Before Chloe can react, Dawn steps forward and proceeds to slap her.  Chloe squeezes her eyes shut, bracing herself for the sting of the slap…and nothing happens.  She opens one eye cautiously and is surprised by what she sees. 

Dawn’s hand is suspended in mid-swing and someone else’s hand is wrapped firmly around her wrist, holding it in place.  Everyone’s eyes focus on the person attached to that hand.  Chloe could not be more stunned to see the dark-haired form of Trixie Morningstar. 

“I would think twice about hitting her if I were you,” Trixie warns quietly. 

Dawn tries to wrench her arm free, but Trixie’s grip is like iron.  “Let go of me, you dyke!”

The whole crowd gasps.  Trixie is usually a pretty quiet girl.  The few times that anybody has seen her lose her temper were…ugly to put it kindly.  Once or twice “devil’s spawn” has been thrown in her direction. 

Trixie smiles wickedly.  “I am a dyke,” she confirms.  “And I am damn proud of it.  Did you know that I’m also the president of Mars?”

Dawn frowns.  “What?” 

Trixie’s other fist appears and hits Dawn straight in the eye.  Dawn goes down to the ground, having been knocked out cold.  Everyone just steps back a little as Trixie observes Dawn’s unconscious form.  She kneels down and offers Dawn a considerate look.  “I’m sure that black eye you’ll get in the morning will make you look a hell of a lot prettier.”

Then she rises to her feet and everyone splits, creating a path for Trixie. 

Chloe shares a look with Lana.  Lana shrugs.  Then, Chloe follows after Trixie. 

“Trixie wait up,” Chloe calls after her.

Trixie stops, but doesn’t turn around.  “You don’t have to thank me, Chloe.” 

“I want to,” Chloe argues firmly.  “I really appreciated what you did for me.”  It’s very subtle, but Chloe thinks she sees Trixie’s cheeks rise up in a small smile. 

“You’re welcome,” she says quietly.

 _This girl really has no friends,_ Chloe realizes.  As she thinks about it, she doesn’t recall ever seeing Trixie hang out with anyone, other than when Clark invited her to the Talon’s reopening.  “Trixie…do you want to grab a coffee sometime?” 

Now Trixie turns around, if only slightly, but enough for the two of them to lock eyes.  Did Chloe ever realize how beautiful she looks? 

“I’d like that,” Trixie says quietly.  “I’ll be at the Talon this weekend.”

A smile spreads across Chloe’s lips.  “Sounds great.”

Trixie only smiles quickly before turns back around and walking away.

Chloe realizes she’s still smiling as Trixie walks further and further away.  She’s not looking to really date anyone at the moment, but maybe she could be making her first steps toward actually moving on.  The only step she’s looking towards right now is sharing coffee with a friend.  A very attractive friend, if Chloe will be perfectly honest.

 

***

 

Lucifer paces back and forth with his arms crossed as he studies the hostage in front of him.  “So let me get this straight.  You knocked out a classmate in the middle of a corridor with no pretenses?”

Trixie, sitting in a chair with her feet propped up on his desk, shrugs.  “I avoided the no-no-touch-touch square,” she comforts. 

Lucifer feels his lip twitching as he fights back a smile.  It’s like the day they met.  Only that girl didn’t end up with a black eye.

“Beatrice, you do realize that that I can’t keep making up excuses for you,” Lucifer scolds. 

“I was helping a friend!” argues Trixie. 

“I don’t care!” Lucifer fires back.  “You need to learn to get your act together or else…”

“Or else what?” Trixie challenges.  “You’ll punish me?”

Lucifer sneers.  “Don’t tempt me.”

Trixie is still one of the few who never seems to shrink from his scowl.  He’s never been able to frighten her.  Maze showed her true face to the girl and her response was, “Cool!”

He continues to study her for a few minutes longer and realization dawns on him.  “Oh, dear,” he says quietly.  “You’re in love with Chloe Sullivan, aren’t you?”

Trixie glances down into her lap.  “I don’t know,” she confesses. 

Lucifer understands.  Trixie tried to flirt with Lois Lane, but it wasn’t long before she realized that Ms. Lane wasn’t into girls.  Lucifer is just happy that Trixie recognized that before she made too much of a fool of herself.  He also wishes that he knew how to really comfort her. 

With a heavy sigh, Lucifer quits pacing and goes to sit next to his stepdaughter.  “Sweetheart, we’ve been over this,” he reminds her gently.  “I’m sorry that Ms. Lane didn’t turn out to be into women the way you are.  But as pretty as Chloe is, don’t go after her simply because of the fact.  Her last relationship was with a boy.  Do you even know if she is into girls as a lesbian or a bisexual?” it’s a reasonable question, but it looks like Trixie hadn’t thought of that. 

“No I don’t,” Trixie confesses.  “In this town, it’s hard to tell who is into the opposite sex and who is not.  The ones who are into the same sex are too embarrassed to show it.”

“Forgive the pun, but we are in a small town,” Lucifer points out, trying to cheer her up.  “I do hope you find a woman someday, but I want you to know for sure that they are like you, or at least bisexual.”

Trixie nods, bringing her legs in and tucking them under her chin.  “I don’t know about Chloe and I don’t really want to date her at the moment—she just got out of a relationship.  However, she _did_ invite me out for coffee, so that’s something right?”

Lucifer was not expecting that.  “I would say so,” he marvels.  “But still, remember to take things slow.”

Trixie smiles at him.  “I will,” she promises.  She looks down at her watch.  “Well, I have to get back to class.”  She gets up and plants a kiss on Lucifer’s cheek.  When her mother would kiss him on the cheek, he would feel a little fire where her lips were; when Trixie does it, his heart swells with that sense of fatherhood he never once thought in all the eons and eons of his life he would experience. 

With a smile upon his face, Lucifer stretches out with his hands behind his head.  “Damn I love my life.” 

“Lucifer…” Lucifer frowns and sits upright. 

“Yes?” he answers, not sure where the voice is coming from. 

“ _Lucifer_ ,” the voice repeats. 

Genuinely disturbed, Lucifer rises out of his chair and heads towards the door to his office.  When he opens it and peeks out, the corridors look oddly quiet, even though it is in the middle of a class period. 

Lucifer chuckles nervously.  “Okay, whoever is calling me, quit this little Stephen King game and get back to class.” 

He is just about to close the door again, but he sees something at the end of the corridor.  His eyes fall upon something that makes his eyes widen and his skin crawl. 

“Chloe?” he asks.  Not Chloe Sullivan— _his_ Chloe, his dead wife. 

Chloe turns and steps around the corner.

“Stop!  Wait!”  Lucifer yells after her, leaving his office and half walking, half running down the hall after her. 

He passes a classroom and through the window he sees what looks like his wife sitting in a desk chair.  Opening the door, he takes a step inside.

“Darling?” he asks quietly.  His heart is pounding and his breath is coming up in shallow gasps. 

Chloe sits there, in a hospital gown.  Her feet are bare and chalky, like a corpse from the morgue.  Her hair is stringy and has none of the golden quality that has always captivated Lucifer, among other things about her.  Her head is bent forward and her face is hidden beneath her hair. 

“Chloe, what’s going on?” Lucifer asks her, stepping forward placing a delicate hand under her chin.  He tilts her face up and what he sees makes him jump back a few feet. 

Chloe’s pupils are gone, leaving only the pasty whiteness of her eyeballs.  Her lips and cheeks look like they have been ripped off in small parts at a time and then reattached in a crude jigsaw puzzle.

“You didn’t protect me,” Chloe accuses. 

“No, no, I did everything I could!” argues Lucifer, his voice breaking. 

“Can you protect them?” asks Chloe.

“What…” Lucifer turns towards the doorway and he sees Trixie and Emma looking very much like their mother. 

“Why didn’t you protect us, Daddy?” cries Emma. 

Lucifer doesn’t understand what’s happening.  He knows he’s not in hell.  This emotion is all but unfamiliar to him.  He does something that he has no memory of doing. 

He screams.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think people can tell where the story is at canonically with Smallville.
> 
> I also imagine people might be wondering about Lucifer. If Clark could fall victim to the fear toxin, I'm sure that Lucifer can.


	18. Chapter Seventeen

_April 19 th, 1999_

_Just when I thought things in my life couldn’t get worse…they got worse.  Oliver and I still had not spoken since that bad conversation a few months back.  Now I am worried that I never will have another conversation with him._

_For his spring break, Oliver decided to take the family yacht, the_ Queen’s Gambit _, to Japan.  He didn’t even come by the house here in Smallville, not even to see his mother or brother.  Oliver just went straight to our Star City property with some things packed._

_Clark tried to make to Star City before Oliver disembarked, but he didn’t make it there in time.  If only he could fly. In fact, I’ve seen him floating above his bed from time to time.  I’m sure that he can fly.  He isn’t afraid of heights; he just has an irrational fear of flying.  Every time we travel somewhere by plane, Clark is painfully tense.  Sometimes, in worse conditions, he’ll begin stress-eating, or go through an entire pack of gum._

_I wish I could describe how distraught Clark was when he came home later that evening.  He went straight to the loft without dinner.  Later, Laura approached him with a plate she had made for him, including a slice of Martha Kent’s apple pie.  She promised him that Oliver wasn’t mad with him.  She told him that he and I had issues to work out._

_Actually, her exact phrase was “Your father and your brother are both acting like idiots and just need to talk.”_

_Clark joked that he could trap the two of us in a room and not let us out until we worked our problems out.  That does not put a pleasant image in my mind._

_Sadly, Clark would not see his brother again.  I would not get a chance to reconcile with my eldest son._

_The_ Queen’s Gambit _never made it to Japan.  The yacht got caught in a typhoon and no one has heard from it since.  The last couple of weeks, Coast Guard and the efforts of people I have hired have wasted time and resources searching a wide search area for the yacht.  The only things that have been found so far is a life preserver with_ “Queen’s Gambit” _written on it and…a chunk of the yacht’s hull bobbing on a reef._

_That could only mean that the rest of the yacht is at the bottom of the Pacific.  There is no island around for miles, so Oliver is gone._

_Writing down those words hurts.  Every time I hear my front door open, my mind immediately assumes that it is Oliver.  I sat down with Laura and Clark and tried to explain to them that Oliver wasn’t coming home.  It seems like everybody tries to convince themselves that there’s an easy way to tell somebody that they lost someone they love._

_There is no easy way to tell someone that they lost someone they love.  I couldn’t even form the words I needed to say.  Laura got the message and she got up and began pacing frantically.  She began saying that it wasn’t true, it just couldn’t be.  Oliver is just missing out there somewhere and we need to find him.  She called me a filthy liar.  This was one time that I wished I was a filthy liar.  I got up and grabbed her, to stop her from pacing.  She writhed in my arms, begging me to let her go, but soon she was sobbing into my arms._

_Clark, on the other hand, sat unmoving.  He looked to be in shock.  When Laura and I managed to pull ourselves together enough to try and comfort him, it’s like he didn’t even notice we were there.  I snapped my fingers in front of his face and he didn’t even flinch._

_Then the strangest thing happened, Clark screamed and covered his ears.  I couldn’t understand what was happening.  He fell to the floor and began writhing around, screaming “Make it stop!” over and over again.  From what I could tell, something was hurting Clark’s ears.  I didn’t hear anything beyond Clark’s screams of pain._

_Eventually, it subsided and Clark sat huddling by one of the couches in the living room, whimpering.  Laura went over and wrapped her arms around him._

_When we managed to get him to talk about it, Clark said that he didn’t understand what happened.  He explained that he was thinking about Oliver, the_ sound _of his voice and heartbeat.  Without meaning to, he started listening for them and before he knew what was happening, he started hearing everything—and he did mean everything down to a fly’s wings a mile away—all at once with the volume turned extremely high._

 _I think Clark has discovered a new superpower.  I think he is developing_ super-hearing­ _and he tried to use to pinpoint Oliver’s heartbeat._

_Despite our trauma over losing Oliver, the Queens have a new assignment:  helping Clark figure out how to manage his…exceptional hearing._

_It’s on our to-do list, but all we are concerned about doing right now is grieving.  Hell, I can’t even stand to think about how we are going to deal with Oliver’s memorial service._

Lucifer drums his fingers against the steering wheel of his Corvette as he drives.  His anger is so strong that he can’t even sit still.  LuthorCorp develops to this toxin that makes people relive their worst nightmares and they aren’t even taking responsibility?  Both of his daughters were among the victims of the toxin and they are both so traumatized that he can’t even convince them to talk about it.  Of course, he could coerce Trixie with his persuasive powers, but he made a vow a long time ago never to use his powers on her and he always keeps his promises.  Still, since they were both so traumatized, the three of them camped out in the sitting room of their house.  Many times through the night, he had to comfort them when one or both of them began showing obvious signs of bad dreams. 

So, he is also exhausted as well as angry.  It has marred his fair complexion with unwanted bags under his eyes, reminding him of the days when Emma was a baby.  She wasn’t a colicky infant, but that didn’t mean that he and his wife didn’t suffer from sleepless nights either. 

Besides him, the only person who came out of their nightmarish hallucinations was Clark Queen.  That young man never ceases to amaze him.  As much as Lucifer wanted to help, Clark convinced him to stay with his daughters.  Other than the exception of his late wife, Lucifer does not appreciate being told what to do.  However, it turned out that Mr. Queen had the right skillsets for figuring out how to contain the toxin.

And Lucifer could never pass up the need to protect his children.  So far Smallville has proven to be a relatively safe environment to raise his children, but it seems the same can’t be said for himself.

That fear toxin reopened a deep wound.  If he will be honest with himself, even if it hadn’t with would always remain an itchy scab without ever becoming a scar.

During school, Lucifer did stop by the Torch office.  Maybe it’s for the simple reason that her name is Chloe, but cared enough to check up on Ms. Sullivan.  Clark Queen was already in the process of comforting her, so he did his best on to intrude. 

Chloe was the first to notice him as he was turning to leave and she invited him in.  Dr. Linda Martin taught him that it was healthy to share his woes with others and, though he might not tell them, he considers Clark Queen and Chloe Sullivan to be his friends.  He is the disciplinarian he needs to be during school hours, but they have earned their right to be his friends.

He admitted that he too witnessed an apparition of his worst fear.  His family has become his greatest strength in life, but also his strongest weakness.  Sometimes, he even goes so far as to thank his almighty father in heaven for the safety of his daughters, and he is far from the praying type.

Ms. Sullivan and Mr. Queen didn’t share their fears in too much detail and he respects that.  Ms. Sullivan did however describe her anger over the fact that she couldn’t get a statement from LuthorCorp.  From what she could tell, the whole incident was being swept under the rug without anyone taking responsibility. 

Lucifer has done some of his own research on LuthorCorp and they do seem to habitually sweep their mishaps and failed experiments under the rug.  Being someone who actually enjoyed Ms. Sullivan’s need to expose the truth—even if she is as naïve as any adolescent girl who he hopes will improve with time—Lucifer promised that he would have a chat with Lex Luthor.

So that is where Lucifer is heading now—to Luthor Mansion.  As the castle-like house comes into view, Lucifer regards it critically.  Now that he thinks of it, he feels that the building is so out of place with the rest of Smallville.  There are places for medieval-like monstrosities like this house and Smallville isn’t one of those places.  It’s a blemish in the country vibe that is Smallville.

His house and the Queens’ bigger house are much nicer.  They actually fit the image.  This mansion just looks like something plucked from a Scottish fairytale and then dumped in the most out-of-place setting.  This is Dorothy’s house in Munchkin Land and Lucifer is here to see Dorothy. 

He laughs out loud at the scenario that plays in his head.  He could be the Wicked Witch of the West to Lex Luthor’s Dorothy—without the melting part.

He got into the property without much trouble and parked in front of the house.  Some Secret Service-like gentleman came out, offering to take him to Lex. 

“Thank you, Agent K, but I don’t need an escort,” Lucifer brushed off the man.  The man looks nothing like Tommy Lee Jones, but he did enjoy his little joke.

Lucifer headed into the house and made his way to the most likely place Mr. Luthor would be:  his study. 

When he reached the double doors, Lucifer opens them both dramatically.  His ears find Mr. Luthor before his eyes do. 

“A couple of days ago several of the people of Smallville nearly die because of some fear toxin and all you can do you play the strains of Rachmaninoff?” asks Lucifer incredulously.

Mr. Luthor stops playing the piano abruptly.  He lifts his gaze from the black finish of the piano and locks eyes with Lucifer. 

“Mr. Morningstar,” Lex greets.  He rises from the piano and goes over to the liquor table.  “Scotch?”

Lucifer can’t believe he’s saying this.  “No, thank you.”  Instead he takes Lex’s place at the piano and, after a deep breath, begins playing Tchaikovsky.  As he plays, an expression passes over Lex’s features that Lucifer could call admiration.

“Sounds like you don’t just play transcriptions of rock songs and blues,” he observes.

“Well, Mr. Luthor, when typical group of customers don’t enjoy the classics, it becomes that much harder to keep them entertained,” explains Lucifer lazily.  “I can count on one hand how many teenagers I am acquainted with who can tell Tchaikovsky from Rachmaninoff.”  That only person happens to be Clark Queen.  The boy can be clumsy, be he sure knows how to play the piano.

“I can tell that you are upset about the toxin incident, but I can assure you…”

Lucifer hits a discordant note on the piano and fixes his gaze on the bald-headed young man.  “Upset?” he repeats.  “Oh, ‘upset’ does not begin to cover it.”  He gets up from the piano that isn’t as polished as his piano—the one at the Talon, his house, or even Clark Queen’s piano—and he goes to the liquor table. 

“It was a failed experiment, intended to be used for the military, and as I was saying, the scientist in charge of its development has been fired,” explains Lex.

Lucifer laughs mirthlessly as he downs a glass of scotch in a single gulp.  He stares at the bottle admirably.  “Oh, that is a great bottle of scotch.”

“It’s a 1925,” Lex informs proudly.

“Ah, Prohibition,” marvels Lucifer.  “So you laze around, playing the piano and drinking eighty-year-old Scotch while many are still reeling from the effects of a toxin.  You know my daughters spent three hours afraid of closing their eyes?” he smiles at Lex.  To his delight, the young man actually looks a little uneasy.

“What kind of military finds the use in something that makes people have terrifying hallucinations?” asks Lucifer, his voice breaking.  Either it’s from what he himself experienced or seeing how fearful his daughters were, but Lucifer just feels uncharacteristically emotional.  He usually saves his emotions for more private settings.  “And what kind of idiotic company would be willing to develop such a toxin?  And your company can’t even make a statement?  Or even a formal apology for causing such harm to the community? 

Based on what I’ve read and heard about Lionel Luthor and comparing him to your business ventures, I truly wonder which of you is more despicable.”

Lucifer’s smile widens as he sees a flash of anger in Lex’s eyes.

“I am not my father,” he says quietly. 

“Of course you aren’t,” Lucifer echoes.  “Your father is a dying man rotting is prison.  However, while he might have been a duplicitous douchebag whose hands are dirtier than most, at least LuthorCorp didn’t have this much controversy under his reign.  So can you really look me in the eye and tell me that you are the better businessman?  Or are you just a sad child trying to prove to the world that he’s better than his father?  Tell me, Lex Luthor…” Lucifer begins, stepping very close to the younger man.  “What do you desire?”

Lex Luthor takes longer than Lucifer expects.  Some people answer immediately.  _This moron sure has a strong will, I’ll give him that_ , Lucifer thinks.

“I want to immortalize the Luthor name,” Lex replies eventually.  “I want to show the world all the good that Luthors have to offer.  I want to be one of the greatest people who ever lived.”

Each answer makes Lucifer’s eyes widen to the point that he worries they will burst out of his skull.  “Those are some big aspirations, Mr. Luthor,” he states.  He offers him a considerate look.  “Something tells me that you will get exactly what you want.  Be careful what you wish for.”  Without another word, he steps past the young man and heads out of the study.  He stops briefly before he disappears around the corner.

“Oh and Mr. Luthor,” Lucifer begins.  “Your Rachmaninoff could use some practice; your counterpoints are not as on point as they could be.”  He stands there long enough to see Lex’s face turn scarlet before leaving.

Feeling in a much better mood, he plans to stop and pick up ice cream for his daughters on his way home. 

 

***

 

When Clark got home, he found his brother shut up in his bedroom, staring out the window.  Having invited Chloe since he felt they could use each other’s company, he told her to order pizza for the three of them. 

Clark has spent five minutes just watching his brother.  In all that time, Oliver has not even acknowledged his presence.

“Fear toxin hit you hard too?” Clark asks conversationally.  “I can tell you what I saw.”  It was painful enough talking about it with Chloe, but doing so helped him release some of the anxiety he didn’t realize had built up.

“There was a meteor shower and people saw how I reacted to the kryptonite,” explains Clark, shuddering at the memory.  It felt so real.  “Everyone thought I was a monster and the next moment I realized I was in a large test tube.  I actually felt as though I was drowning in a vat of liquid kryptonite while people in lab coats observed what was happening to me.”  He finishes with a deep exhale.  He would rather not have to explain it again.

“I’m sorry you had to suffer that kind of hallucination, buddy,” Oliver says finally, turning slightly to face his adoptive brother.  “Rest assured, if that ever happens, I for one—and I bet Chloe as well—would move mountains to save you.”

A watery smile spreads across Clark’s face at his brother’s heartfelt promise. 

“I know it’s a fear that has bothered you for as long as I can remember, Clark, but the day that you end up a lab rat will be the day I grow a ponytail.” 

That puts an amusing image in Clark’s head.  “You’d look pretty good with a ponytail.”

Oliver scowls.  “Watch it, Bluesy.”  However, he starts laughing soon.  Just as quickly, his laughter disappears, replacing it with sorrow.  “I saw Mom and Dad, Clark.”

Clark frowns as he goes to sit on Oliver’s bed. 

“They called me a failure,” Oliver continues.  “I was standing over your dead body and they called me a failure.”  He laughs humorlessly.  “I guess my biggest fear is failing to protect you.”

If his brother was expecting him to laugh, Clark does not.  “I guess we all need protecting sometimes.  Even me.”

“Even a man of steel isn’t invincible,” agrees Oliver.  He gives Clark a sideways glance.  “Did I overhear you tell Chloe to order pizza?”

Clark nods.  “Sounds like I made a good move.”

“You did,” Oliver confirms.  They share a laugh.  Clark doesn’t acknowledge it as much as he thinks he should, but he is really glad to have his brother back in his life.

A knock sounds at the door.  “Guys?”

“Yeah Chloe?” answers Oliver. 

“I’m not sure if it means anything to you guys, but a Diana Prince left a message on your answering machine,” explains Chloe.  “She’s going to be here tomorrow.”

Oliver and Clark’s faces melt.  Their Aunt Di is coming over.  “Oh, crap,” they say together. 


	19. Chapter Eighteen

_June 3 rd, 1999_

_I seem to have found myself a new best friend.  His name is beer.  He tastes awful, smells awful, and I can’t seem to get enough of him.  The funny thing is that I hate beer.  Until recently, the only times that I really drank anything other than a glass of wine at Sunday dinner were social events.  Now I could barely pass a sobriety test if a cop pulled a breathalyzer on me._

_My newfound alcoholism has gotten to the point that eventually I was given an intervention…from Jonathan Kent.  Based on what he told me, one evening I got so drunk that I landed myself in a fistfight with a biker.  He left out many details, but bottom line was that the biker said “Boohoo” when I started whining about the death of Oliver.  Jonathan hauled me to his house and I was given a rude awakening when I found my head in a bucket of ice water.  Also much of the beer I drank came up._

_Jonathan gave me some of the tough love I needed.  “Look at yourself!” he told me.  “Your wife and son are at home worried sick and all you can do is kill your liver?”  To say my hard-working, devoted husband of a friend of mine was disappointed in me would be a massive understatement.  All I could do was sob.  I sobbed because my son was dead.  I sobbed because I wasn’t dealing with it healthily—in all forms of the word.  I was like a child being reprimanded for misbehaving.  I have been misbehaving._

_Life has dealt me an unfair card, but all the beer and whiskey in the world can’t fix that.  Jonathan, being the friend he is, promised to help me figure out ways to keep me away from the bar, but I did have to meet him halfway.  And I needed to figure out how to help my family deal with our tragedy on my own._

_Sad to say, some things haven’t gone so well._

_Lately, I’ve spent more time at a bar than I have at home.  My house, even if it’s the same house I’ve been living in for quite some time now, feels ugly, different, and just not “home.”  Laura and I are barely speaking to each other, or rather she gave up trying to get me to open up to her.  Clark has isolated himself from everything and everyone and not even his closest friend, Chloe can seem to get through to him.  He still does work at the Kent farm, but he does so listlessly.  He’s doing everything without fail, but also without any vigor or enthusiasm._

_He also might be upset with me.  I was too drunk to remember, but I must have said something along the lines of “My son is dead…and all I’m left with is the little alien I found in a cornfield.”  I’ll never be able to put my shock into words, but I can say that it might be a contributing factor to my newfound alcoholism.  Before I said that, Clark didn’t even know he was from outer space.  He knew he was different and that he has powers, but I was hoping for a better time to tell him of his true heritage._

_And I offhandedly, drunkenly, told him that he wasn’t a human being.  Combined with the fact that he’s adopted, Oliver having mostly likely died at sea, and thinking we don’t know that he thinks we don’t love him like we loved Oliver, Clark’s self-esteem is at an all-time low.  And I’m to blame.  Several times, I’ve caught him staring at himself, as if he’s expecting to see something that would truly make him look alien._

_If Clark is any indication, I believe that there are more human-looking aliens out there than people give credit for.  Hollywood makes money off of grotesque, albeit creative looking aliens who come to bring destruction to Earth.  In the case of the movie_ E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial _he was just a family-friendly alien who was accidentally left behind and wanted to go home.  In the case of_ Alien _that was just a ugly, killing machine with acidic blood that burst of John Hurt’s belly._

_Clark is just a boy.  He’s a young man that, if the wrong people found him, would likely be in a lab somewhere instead of in my home with a family who loves him.  Oliver did bring up a good point all things considered.  I don’t know about then, but I believe that even if he didn’t turn out to be who I thought he’d be…if it turned out he was just a boy who lost his family in a meteor shower…I would have at least made sure that he found a family to take him in.  If he hadn’t, I probably still would have adopted him._

_I need to remind him that I still love him.  He may be an alien, but he’s the alien that Laura and I chose to raise as our son.  He’s the alien who I have told countless times how much I loved him.  I might have taken him for granted at times, and I hate myself for that, but if there is one way I can honor Oliver’s memory, it will be to make sure that Clark knows that there are people in the world who will always love him._

The news that Diana Prince was coming to visit hit the Queen boys like a freight train.  Their Aunt Di would be arriving at Metropolis International Airport at eight in the morning as she is taking the red-eye flight.  They felt bad about it, but they ended up steering Chloe out of the house while promising to make up their pizza night.  She wanted to stay because she had not met Diana Prince yet.  Only when she got pouty—in the way that she knew that Clark couldn’t resist—did they agree to let her stay. 

So they ended up sharing pizza anyway with a movie to boot. 

Afterwards, the Queen boys, with the help of Chloe, cleaned up frantically.  Even though Oliver insisted that the house was spotless—which it probably was—in the span of ten minutes, Clark cleaned it from top to bottom twelve times.  Their Aunt Diana was always telling them that the state of their house says a lot about how they are as people.  As a result, they have always strived to keep their house clean. 

Clark does like to think that he’s better at the task than his brother is and not just because he can clean the whole house—minus Oliver’s bedroom out of respect—in a minute or less. 

Since the house had been cleaned up, they relaxed somewhat.  However, Oliver became worried that their cars might not have been spotless.  Clark did not speed through the task as he, Oliver, and Chloe washed and waxed the cars…even though they too were spotless.

The three of them became so nervous that eventually they started mouthing off to each other.  At the slightest mistake, such as missing a spot while washing the cars, the other two would start panicking.  Once or twice, Chloe threw tools at both Clark and Oliver.  One time, Chloe accidentally got into Clark’s steam of water from the hose and she went berserk. 

She got so angry that, before Clark could react, she snatched hose from him and sprayed him with a jet blast.  Oliver tried to break it up only to get sprayed with water.  What should have been a car-cleaning session turned into a messy, albeit laughable water fight of hoses and wet sponges. 

Somewhere during that time, Lois came by and she said that she was standing there for a good ten minutes before anyone noticed her.

Heavily embarrassed to say the least, Clark, Oliver and Chloe registered each other.  Shirtless and soaked in the seventy-something-degree fall weather, the three of them looked ridiculous.  Clark didn’t know about them, but he sure felt like a lunatic as Lois stood there staring at each of them in turn. 

Then, most astoundingly, Lois shrugged and took off her own shirt and shoes, leaving her in just her jeans and white bra.  She wanted to join the water fight.  All things considered, Clark thought that she had nice breasts.  They are larger than Chloe’s and Chloe is more likely to wear a low-cut top, but they were nice.  Size really doesn’t matter to him; he just thought they were nice. 

Nice enough that Clark found himself having to keep his eyes up.  He doesn’t like Lois in that way, if at all, so why was he staring at her breasts?  He rationalized that someone can look attractive without him actually liking them, but then he realized that the way he was staring at her breasts is very similar to how he found himself staring at Chloe when he started falling for her. 

Wait, Clark is _not_ falling for Lois Lane!  He hates Lois Lane!  She’s obnoxious, she beat his score at _Halo_ , she’s a terrible speller, and…

When Clark went to bed, he lost a considerable amount of sleep thinking.  Without meaning to, he found himself comparing Lois and Chloe.  The rational part of him wondered why he hated Lois so much.  He doesn’t know her too well and yet he hates her.  Since he has met her, there have been times when he found himself genuinely enjoying her company, but he doesn’t like her that much…does he?

Then there’s Chloe.  She’s his ex-girlfriend.  He still loves her and probably always will, but she made it clear that she didn’t think they were the ones for each other right now.  She’s the girl who kissed him the day they met.  She’s the one who has been his friend longer than anybody.  She might have pried into his life too much freshman year, but as his mother always told him, it was just because she was naïve.  She was an aspiring reporter who had to learn to filter her curiosity.

She did eventually, but not before they almost lost their friendship.  After the tornadoes struck during their Spring Formal and Clark left without warning to save their friend, Lana’s life, he wanted to make it up to Chloe.  After his dad convinced him to push past her defenses as he called them, he took a leap of faith and showed her why he was so secretive. 

He showed her the powers he had up to that point—his strength, speed, x-ray vision, and flight.  Her immediate reaction was awe.  Then she said that she knew there was something special about him.  Then she was upset that he hadn’t told her sooner and didn’t speak to him for a few days.  Finally, they met each other in his loft one day and Chloe apologized for getting upset, as well as prying.  She told him that after a while all she could think of was the possibility of him ending up in a test tube, or becoming a lab rat.  She swore that his secret would never leave her lips.

Their friendship blossomed even further at that point before they transitioned into becoming boyfriend and girlfriend. 

He loves everything about her all the way down to the freckles on her cheek and upper torso. 

And now there’s Lois.  Even if he did like her—which he does _not_ —it feels to him like breaking girl code.  Lois is Chloe’s cousin, for crying out loud.  Even if he and Chloe hadn’t dated, what kind of guy would he be to date Chloe’s cousin?  In Lois’ case, it might make her a bit of a backstabber to date a guy her cousin was in love with. 

Clark tried to put all of it out of his mind as he drifted off to sleep. 

It felt like only minutes later when his alarm went off.  It seems like he barely had time to get moving before he walked downstairs and saw Oliver driving off in his car.

Clark waits about twenty minutes before he calls his brother.  He waits patiently, getting into the family’s SUV and driving off himself as he waits for his brother to answer.  Eventually, after calling him a third time, Oliver answers.

“You snooze, you lose, little brother,” Oliver teases smugly.  Clark can hear him cackling. 

“That’s great, Ollie,” he fires back dryly.  “But tell, how is Aunt Di supposed to fit her luggage into that Lamborghini?”  He smiles triumphantly as Oliver goes deadly quietly.  “How can you be so thoughtless?” he demands incredulously.  “I’ll see you at the airport, dummy.”  He hangs up.  As he does so, he feels bad all of the sudden.

Chloe wanted to meet their Aunt Di and he left her at the house.  Oh, well.  He knows how cranky she can be when rudely awoken.  On the upside, Aunt Di was always talking about how much she wanted to meet Chloe.  Waiting to drive back to the house to meet her will just increase her excitement.

Clark counts the minutes it takes him to get to the airport.  Between glancing at the hands on his watch and the clock on the dashboard, the trip feels a lot longer than it really is.  He could have just ran or flew to the airport and then sped Aunt Di’s luggage to the house, but he wanted to actually have more of a chance to actually enjoy the reunion with the woman who made him his bow, the woman who mentored him and taught him to be a fighter.

Pete Ross once told him that he drives like an old lady, so since then he’s been trying to be a more confident driver.  In fact, when his superhearing kicked in, he has made a habit of listening for cops.  He has made a habit of finding ways to ignore the speed limit without getting caught.  The speed limit on the road he’s on is fifty-five.  He’s driving ninety.  He likes to think that he slows down well enough for when the time calls for it depending on the amount of traffic for example, but if it’s just him without too many people around, he drives fast. 

One buzz-kill for the whole thing is thinking of when Lex Luthor crashed his Porsche into him.  Clark could never explain how he does it, but he likes to think that he’s found a delicate balance between being a careful and reckless driver.  He speeds like a maniac, but he’s careful about it.  He’s never gotten a ticket.  Smugly, he can think of a few incidents growing up when Oliver got himself some pretty outstanding speeding tickets. 

It drove their mother insane.  Clark remembers her warning him that if he ever got a speeding ticket, she would make sure that he never became a licensed driver.  Sometimes he feels bad about finding the loophole, but he figured he can speed all he wants.  He just needs to make sure that he doesn’t get a ticket.  And he never has, so he’s kept his promise…sort of.

What is typically a three-hour trip, Clark was able to make a bit shorter.  Oliver has maybe a twenty minute head-start on him, but Clark is better at speeding, so he figures that he will arrive at the same time as his brother, if not before him.  It’s a long commute, one that that costs a lot of gas money—something that even Clark with his money complains about—but it’s worthwhile. 

Among other things, Clark wonders how Diana will react to seeing Oliver alive and well.  He wonders how she will react to his breakup with Chloe.  Maybe reminding her that he and Chloe still mean very much to each other will spare him a slap upside the head, or her alleviate some of her disappointment.  Maybe she will just be so happy to see her favorite “idiots” as she always called them. 

It’s not their fault they are idiots.  She was just training them in the ways of the Amazons, which is exclusively made up of women.  Guys just are as graceful as women.  Clark would like to think that he and his brother tried to be.  Plus, Clark has had more time to actually train with her.

More than anything, it will just be nice to see her. 

Clark relaxes a little when he nears the airport.  Thankfully, it doesn’t look terribly busy today.  Metropolis may be a landlocked city in the heart of the Midwest, but it is a heavily populated city and many people are always coming in and out of it. 

Clark bets that the airports are not as busy as that of Chicago or New York, but they tend to be very busy.  Once Clark checks in, he wastes no time looking for a parking space.  That alone takes him about ten minutes.  Diana’s voicemail made no mention of her using a private jet, so it’s not like they could have just met her on one of the smaller airstrips.

After Clark parks the SUV, he speeds into the airport.  He almost forgets to go through the security check up.  A funny memory comes to his mind of an incident when his dad was worried that, given his anatomy, he might not pass the body scan.  Clark still remembers his dad nearly biting his nails as he waited to see whether he would pass or not.  He did.  Afterwards, he told his father,

“What?  It’s not like I’m literally made of steel.”

After Clark gets through the security checkup, he calls Oliver.  He picks up on the second ring.

“Hey, where are you, buddy?” asks Oliver.

“I just got through security,” replies Clark.  “Where are you?”

Oliver does not answer immediately.  “How do you speed the way you do without getting caught?” he demands.  “I just got to the parking garage.”

Clark closes his eyes as he suppresses his amusement.  “Okay, when you get into the airport, look for me at the terminal.  You remember which one?”

“Yeah,” replies Oliver.  “Okay, see you then.  And I can hear you smiling.”

Clark’s face falls as Oliver disconnects.  With a scoff, he shoves his phone back in his pocket and starts heading towards the terminal.  As he heads there, he notices something.  He puts his hand to his mouth and exhales.  He grimaces as he realizes he forgot to brush his teeth when he got up.  Hoping to have somewhat decent breath in front of his mentor, he goes to one of the shops and buys a pack of gum.  Immediately, he puts a piece in his mouth. 

He finds the terminal that Diana is supposed to arrive in and takes a seat.  A few minutes later, he doesn’t need to look up to know his brother has joined him. 

“Gum?” offers Clark.

Oliver must notice that he has morning breath as well as he takes a piece of gum. 

Together they wait for Diana to arrive, the only sound between them being the steady chewing of their pieces of gum.  Clark can feel how nervous his brother is.  As far as he knows, this will be the first time that Oliver has seen Diana in the better part of five years.  It makes sense that he can hardly keep still. 

Clark suspects that Diana is excited to see him to.  A few minutes into their waiting period, they hear over the PA that Diana’s plane has arrived.  If possible, their excitement intensifies and they rise from their seats.  Feeling obliged Clark superspeeds to a floral shop, selects and buys a bouquet, and returns to Oliver’s side. 

Oliver frowns crossly at the bouquet and then at Clark.  “Well, thanks Bluesy,” he spits.  “Way to make me feel left out.”

Clark rolls his eyes.  “Will you shut up?  Of course you have something to offer—yourself.”

Oliver blinks at him several times. 

Realizing the potential connotations of the statement, Clark elucidates.  “Aunt Di hasn’t seen you in ages; she’s probably going to be more interested in seeing you than she will be in these anemones.”  It feels weirdly self-deprecating saying it, but as he thinks about it, it starts to feel truer with each minute. 

Soon people start coming into the airport and the Queen Brothers, in their pitiful dishevelment, straighten themselves up.   

It’s not long before they see the tall, dark-haired form of the lady who taught them to be warriors.  Clark always felt that she seemed more east Mediterranean—Israeli maybe, but not Greek.  She doesn’t look like somebody who might have been an Ancient Greek.  She always told him the Amazons are very diverse ethnically. 

Her dark hair is in a perfect French braid and her clothes, as per her usually fashionable tastes, consists of tight slacks with stiletto boots and a leather lapel jacket over a dark blouse.  Clark finds himself having to keep his eyes up.  He hopes she didn’t catch him staring at her cleavage.  Then again, many of the men surrounding her have stopped to ogle her, even the ones with significant others.

As she approaches them with her suitcase, Diana stops several feet away from them and puts her hands on her hips. 

“ _Well if it isn’t my most difficult students I have ever had_ ,” she chastises in Ancient Greek.  Oliver looks a little lost; Clark assumes that his Ancient Greek is a bit rusty. 

Diana focuses her attention on Oliver and Oliver’s breath hitches in his throat.  Diana always had her ways of making them squirm with just her gaze.  Diana observes him thoughtfully, if not a little sadly.  No doubt, she pities him for coming home to find out his parents are dead.

“It’s been a long time, Oliver Queen,” Diana observes quietly.

Oliver laughs shortly.  “Hey, Aunt Di.”

Diana laughs and pulls Oliver into a hug.  Clark watches as his brother closes his eyes, seeing them glisten with tears.  When she wasn’t being a hard-ass drill sergeant who was distractingly beautiful, she had always been a bit of a second mother to them, hence the nickname.

Eventually, the two separate and Diana pulls Clark into a hug before he can react.  She hugs him hard enough to squeeze a yelp out of him.  In return, he too offers her a bit of a bear hug.  She squeals in surprise, but soon they are both laughing. 

“Oh, you boys have no idea how happy I am to see you,” laughs Diana as Clark releases her.  He hands her the flowers and her eyes twinkle.  “Anemones?  Oh, Clark, you’re so sweet!”

Clark smiles, but he has to keep it from being smug, or even winking at Oliver.

“Are you ready to go, Aunt Di?” asks Clark, taking her suitcase.

Diana smiles up at him.  Then she slips her hand around Oliver’s arm.  Now Clark wishes he had waited for Oliver to grab the suitcase.  Maybe _he_ would have been the one whose arm Diana was on.  Better luck next time. 

“So tell me, boys,” beings Diana.  “Would one of you like to tell me why you’ve seemed to have lapsed in personal hygiene?”

Clark and Oliver share a startled look.  Now that Clark thinks of it, he realizes that neither one of them bothered to shower before leaving to pick up Diana.  To make things worse, Diana throws her head back and laughs.

“I love you two!” she exclaims jovially.

Then Clark’s phone rings and sees Chloe’s name on the screen.  If smelling like they just got out of bed was embarrassing enough, Clark and Oliver will have hell to pay with Chloe for not bringing her to the airport with them.

“This is going to be a weird day,” Clark mutters.     

 

      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as you all read, up at this point, Clark can fly. I'm sure all of you are wondering when exactly he developed that particular skill, but no worries. It'll be explained eventually.


	20. Chapter Nineteen

_July 7 th, 1999_

_It hasn’t been easy, but I do think that, with the help of Jonathan as well as my loving wife, I am getting over my alcoholism.  I’ve never struggled with alcoholism before (though I might have had a few too many drinks in college) so overcoming the habit turned out to be easier than I expected.  It didn’t make the pain of losing my son any easier._

_Recently, I do believe I had a wakeup call.  One evening, I lapsed in my progress towards overcoming my alcoholism and things turned really bad.  I now know from personal experience never to drive under the influence.  I don’t know if it was luck or fate that I didn’t get caught by the sheriff or any of his deputies, but I was so drunk I nearly drove head-on into a gas tanker.  I swerved and it sent me and my car flying.  As coincidence would have it, Clark was out for one of his runs that lately seem therapeutic and he caught the car before it went flying off the side of the road and into a ravine._

_He was strong enough that he was able to catch the car without losing his footing, but due to the force of the impact, the passenger side of the car wrapped around him.  Other than a few cuts on my face and a mild concussion, I was fine.  When Clark set the car down and came around the car to check up on me, he stopped for a minute.  I might have been a bit drunk, but even through a drunken haze I could see the deadness in Clark’s eyes.  It’s the same vapid, colorless pigment of his baby blues that I’ve seen since his brother died._

_Without even asking if I was okay, Clark told me, “You smell like beer, Dad.”  And then he sped off.  No offense to Jonathan, but my son’s blunt statement has motivated me to give up beer more than he ever had.  So, lately I’ve taken up iced tea._

_One problem down, but I still had another problem.  Laura and I have steadily been opening up to each other more and more, but Clark has still closed himself off from everything and everyone._

_That is until yesterday.  Laura and I had woken up for the day and were on our way downstairs to make ourselves some breakfast when we found Clark in the living room.  He was sitting in front of the TV watching a home video._

_My heart felt like it was being wrung like a wet washcloth as I recognized the video._

_It was when Clark and Oliver were seven and thirteen respectively.  Jonathan Kent had made an elaborate fort out of haystacks and that area in his back forty was renamed “Sherwood.”  Oliver was Robin Hood; Clark was stuck as Little John (he was smaller than Oliver at the time); Chloe Sullivan, who begged to join, was Will Scarlett; Laura was Maid Marion; I was the Sheriff of Nottingham.  Jonathan, with his wife’s video camera, did his best to capture as much of the activity as he could._

_I still have no idea how he made them, or got them to work, but Oliver, dressed like Robin Hood to the point that he even had a pair of tights, had skillfully crafted a bunch of arrows tipped harmlessly with little balls full of paint.  Clark was already pretty strong at that point, so to be safe, he stuck with a staff liken to Little John.  To complete the theme of Mel Brooks’_ Robin Hood: Men in Tights _, Chloe was given a set of toy daggers._

_The punch line of the whole activity is that Oliver accidentally shot his mother—the woman he was supposed to be rescuing from me!  While the rest of us laughed, Oliver threw a fit and the end of the video showed him stalking off.  He was thirteen; growing up he had gotten to the point that he never missed what he aimed for, but that didn’t mean he didn’t make a few mistakes along the way.  He always took those mistakes harder than necessary._

_So, Laura and I stood there silently as the video reached its conclusion.  Having finally acknowledged our presence, Clark turned to face us._

_No words were exchanged as Laura closed the distance and enveloped our sobbing son in her arms.  Wracked with emotion myself, I joined the hug.  We sat there for quite a while, just letting out all the tears we’ve held back._

_The three of us have a long way to go, but in that moment, I feel that we might have taken our first step as a family towards healing._

 

Clark may have been the one who thought to bring a car that Diana could actually fit her luggage in, but she still ended up riding back to the house with Oliver.  Oliver was kind enough to even wink at Clark before he got into his Lamborghini.  As Clark got back to the SUV, he rationalized that she hadn’t seen Oliver in a longer period of time.  If nothing else, it’s a good reason to be riding with his brother instead.  Still, Clark feels like a baggage boy, the servant tasked with taking care of the entire luggage while Diana rides with Oliver in his sleeker car.

Clark does wish that Diana had given them a little more warning about her arrival.  She even told them that even though she called to tell them of her coming, that she was planning on riding a cab to their house.  Is she crazy?  They weren’t going to let her ride in a taxi cab!  Based on the amount of luggage, it seems that she plans on a long-term stay.  Clark and Oliver couldn’t have been more surprised by her coming to Kansas, but they are more than happy to have her.  At least Clark hopes that his brother shares that sentiment.

The trip to the airport was nerve-wracking and had Clark’s thoughts firing on all cylinders.  The trip back home felt a bit more uneventful.  He still drives far above the speed limit where he feels is safe to do so, but beyond that he just listlessly drives along as if it were a trip to the grocery store. 

Sometime during his trip home, someone calls him.  Without seeing who it is, he slows down to a more legal speed and answers.

“Hello?”

“Clark!” it’s Diana.

Clark gapes as he drives along.  “Aunt Di, is everything okay?”

“Oh yes, yes, everything is fine, I’m just calling because Oliver got pulled over,” replies Diana. 

Clark exhales slowly as he fights the building laughter.  “Does he have his license and all that?”

“He forgot his wallet,” Diana answers bluntly.  “I might have been able to persuade the officer to let my ‘nephew’ off with a stern warning, but I just have to ask—do _you_ have your wallet?”

Clark’s imagination of Diana’s methods of persuasion—which could just be her insanely good looks—get so carried away that he almost misses the question.  Instinctively, he checks his butt pocket.  He lets out a sigh of relief when he finds his wallet is there.  “Yes, Aunt Di, I have my wallet,” he answers, making sure his tone is respectful and not purely relief.

“Good,” praises Diana.  “I won’t’ be having the only boys who have been taught in the ways of the Amazons getting pulled over and thus getting tickets for being reckless.  Do you understand me?”

Her voice is as silky and rich with that east Mediterranean accent as always, yet Clark feels ready to squirm as he answers meekly, “Yes, Aunt Diana.”  Through his phone, he hears Oliver make a similarly meek reply. 

“Well, now that’s settled, hang up your phone so that you can focus on the road,” commands Diana.  “If any of armor gets a scratch because of you, you’ll be doing my laundry with a washboard—and you won’t be allowed to use superspeed.”  Even after the line disconnects, Clark hears himself whimpering. 

 _Is she here to visit as a friend, or as that hard-(incredibly beautiful)-ass mentor of ours?_ Clark wonders.  Probably a bit of both, but he hopes that it’s more the former.  He always wondered what his mother would have done—or at least tried to do—to Diana if she was fully aware of the ways that she trained him.

He wonders what Chloe would have thought, especially while they were dating—not that she cared more or less for him at the time.  She might have gotten a bit apprehensive at first, but then once she realized that Diana wouldn’t actually kill him, she would have just sat back with a bowl of popcorn and enjoyed the show.  He sees both Chloe and her cousin, Lois doing that.

Putting those thoughts out of his mind so that he can focus on driving, Clark continues his trek back home.  Feeling a chill, as if Diana were staring at him the whole time, he obeys the speed limits.  When he finally does get back home, he arrives to find that Diana and Oliver already arrived.  As soon as he parks, Oliver comes, opens the trunk and begins unloading some of Diana’s luggage. 

Looks like Diana didn’t want Clark doing all of the hard work.  As Clark gets out of the car and starts helping his brother with the luggage, he hears Diana say,

“Please don’t speed through everything.  I’ll set up my room, but still I would like you to be careful about where you put my luggage.”  With that, Diana disappears into the house.  Momentarily distracted, Clark focuses his x-ray vision hearing and peeks into his house.  Almost as soon as Diana entered the house it seems, Chloe appears, looking like she just got out of the shower as she introduces herself to Diana. 

Chloe is going to have _many_ questions for Diana.  Clark blames himself for that to a degree.  After all the stories that he told Chloe about her, she should be justifiably eager to hear some of them from Diana’s point of view.

“Ollie, how much you want a bet that Diana is going to share a bunch of our more embarrassing moments with Chloe?” asks Clark.

Oliver, who is part way to the front door with a large suitcase freezes.  Turing around only slightly, he answers, “Clark, I don’t think that there’s any bet to it; with all the stories that Aunt Di might tell, Chloe might move just to hear them.”

Clark nods his agreement.  As much as he loves Chloe’s company with or without a romantic relationship, he would rather not have her move in—at least not for that reason. 

Clark doesn’t have to communicate with his brother about which bedroom to set up Diana’s things.  Their parents’ bedroom is the largest bedroom in the house, but beyond keeping it clean, it’s off-limits.  Clark explained it to Oliver before school began.  The room is pretty much a shrine for their parents.  They keep it clean; change the sheets every-so-often, as if constantly preparing for when their parents finally come home. 

Maybe it’s unhealthy.  Maybe it’s a sign showing that they aren’t truly moving on from their parents’ death.  Clark has had more time to grieve, but in the almost year and a half since his parents’ deaths, he has barely even visited their grave.  Still, keeping his parents’ bedroom clean comforts him and he can tell that it’s doing the same for Oliver.

So they set Diana’s belongings up in the bigger of the two guest rooms.  Clark is sure that Diana’s pleased that she has her own full bathroom and large closet.  However, when Clark brought in the chest that he was sure her Wonder Woman gear was in—how she got that onto the plane, he has no idea—Clark had to ask where to put it. 

Diana, who was sitting next to Chloe in the kitchen, regarded the heavy chest thoughtfully. 

“What’s in there?” asks Chloe.

Diana turned her gaze on the intrepid reporter, scrutinizing her with poorly hidden apprehension.  Clark knows that she is aware—or at least should be aware—that Chloe knows everything about him.  As such, there’s little point in her being intensely secretive about her identity.

Finally she smiles as she answers, “Something that I don’t want anyone outside of this house seeing.” 

Chloe nods as she smiles knowingly.  “Well, lucky for you, I am the Queens’ personal secret keeper.  Your secret is safe with me.”

Diana raises and eyebrow.  “I certainly hope so.”

Clark frowns at his mentor indignantly even as Chloe smiles dangerously.  He hopes that his best friend knows better than to challenge his mentor.  Then again, he thinks he sees some sort of silent understanding between the two women.  He knows Chloe better than anyone, but that doesn’t mean he understands women as a whole. 

“God, Aunt Di, quit trying to intimidate Chloe,” scolds Oliver laughingly.  “She might just write an article all about how scary you can be.”

Diana turns to face Oliver and frowns.  “I am not scary!”

“You made Clark wet himself once.”

“Oliver!” Clark shouts, his face turning bright red.  “Seriously?  In front of Chloe?”

Oliver faces him and shrugs.  Clark’s face turns even redder as he hears giggles coming from Chloe.  

“Aw, Clark you poor thing!” she comforts between giggles.  “Who knew that Clark Queen could be scared stiff by a woman?” 

“He ‘accidentally’ walked in on me while I was bathing,” explains Diana, crossing her arms over her chest and scowling up at Clark.  He sees her lip twitching upward as Chloe’s giggles erupt into fitful laughter. 

“ _That’s_ what happened?” Oliver laughs.  “All he would tell me was that you were very upset with him and you gave him the evil eye.”

Diana gapes at him.  “I don’t have an evil eye.”

“Yeah you do,” Clark and Oliver argue in unison. 

Diana rolls her eyes.  “Okay, but yes, I did reprimand Clark and—”

“You _screamed_ at me!” Clark corrects her.  “You stood there without a towel and threatened to beat me with a kryptonite baseball bat if I didn’t keep my eyes up.  Why didn’t you just let me walk away?”

Diana exhales.  “This was six years ago, Clark.  But, I will remind you again that I was in the middle of lecturing you about knocking.” 

Ignoring the uncontrolled laughter of Oliver and Chloe, Clark mutters, “You could have wrapped yourself up first.”

Diana nods considerately.  “Yes, I suppose I could have.  However, as angry as I was, I was also enjoying your discomfort.”

Clark swears that if Chloe and Oliver don’t quit laughing, he’ll drop the chest he’s carrying on their heads.  “May we please change the subject?”

No one answers and he storms out of the kitchen with the chest in his hands.  Diana didn’t tell him where to put it, so he decides to put it on the floor inside the closet underneath a stack of fresh bed sheets and pillowcases.  When he comes back downstairs, the doorbell rings. 

Grateful for the potential change, Clark rushes down the stairs and gets to the door before anyone else.  He opens it to see the tall, dark-suited, and smiling figure of Lucifer Morningstar.

“Lucifer,” Clark greets. 

“Mr. Queen,” Lucifer greets back.  He glances at the garage.  “You have company?” 

“Uh, yes, in fact I do,” replies Clark.  He looks down at Lucifer’s hand.  “What’s that?”

“Oh, I took the liberty of getting your mail for you,” replies Lucifer, handing Clark the stack of mail.  Clark accepts them.  “So is this a bad time?” he asks.

“Not at all,” Clark steps aside and opens the door wider.  He would very much like to thank Mr. Morningstar for coming when he did.  It would greatly alleviate some of his embarrassment. 

“So why are you here?” asks Clark conversationally.

“This is a strange town, Clark Queen,” replies Lucifer after a few minutes.  “You seem to be connected to a lot of the weird things going on and, call me nostalgic, but I would like to help you get to the bottom of it all.  Not to mention, I feel that there’s a strange bit of witchcraft happening here in Smallville.  And there’s this woman who has arrived in town.  She bothers me.”

“Are you talking about our guest?” asks Oliver’s voice.  Clark and Lucifer turn to see Oliver, Diana, and Chloe coming out of the kitchen. 

Lucifer observes Diana up and down almost predatorily.  “Well, hello,” he greets with that wide grin of his.  “Suffice to say, I was not speaking of this particular woman; the one I was speaking of, her name was Genevieve Teague I believe it was.  And just who are you?”

Diana stands tall, clearly not succumbing to Lucifer’s gaze.  “Diana Prince,” she replies.

A chuckle escapes Lucifer’s lips.  “Now that is not your real name, is it?”

Everyone in the room gasps; Diana freezes where she stands. 

“I’m sure you have plenty of reason for not revealing your real name, but I will tell you mine,” continues Lucifer.  He steps a few paces forward and extends his hand.  “Lucifer Morningstar at your service.”

Diana doesn’t move a muscle.  She doesn’t even blink.  She just stares up at Lucifer with an unreadable expression.  Clark wonders if Lucifer will just say her true title to her, assuming he knows it. 

“Well, while this woman stands here as emotionless as the bust of a Greek goddess, I did have purpose for my visit,” explains Lucifer.  “Besides my offering to lend my services in your insatiable need to investigate Smallville’s mysteries, I’d like to discuss a letter I received in my mail.”  Lucifer’s hand disappears into his blazer and comes back out with a letter.  Clark takes it from his hand and opens it. 

“What is it?” asks Oliver. 

Clark looks it over curiously.  “It would seem that Lucifer has been invited to a ball hosted by Queen Industries next weekend.”

“What!” Oliver snatches the letter from his brother’s hand.  “Tess,” he growls. 

“What’s the matter?” asks Diana, having found her voice.

Oliver rolls his eyes.  “The company has been trying to get me to formally celebrate my return from the dead.  I didn’t want to be put on a pedestal like that.”

“And what does Tess have to do with this?” asks Clark. 

“I believe her when she says she agrees that it’s despicable and just gives a bunch of society people reason to play dress up and drink champagne,” explains Oliver.  “But she also says that making a formal appearance might boost the public’s opinion—as well as that of the board’s—of me if I do make some sort of appearance.”

Clark offers him a sympathetic look.  “At least it’s not like they are asking you to share a picture of your scars to everyone,” he offers, trying to find a silver lining. 

Oliver scowls at him momentarily, but nods eventually.

“Well, are you planning on attending?” urges Lucifer.  “I already bought a dress for my stepdaughter.”

Everyone scowls at the man who calls himself the devil.  Living in a strange town, Clark almost believes that he is exactly who he says he is, but the devil?  That’s a bit preposterous even for Smallville.

“Will it make you less nervous if I attend also?”

Clark and Oliver turn to Diana.  She smiles at them gently. 

“Seriously?” asks Oliver. 

“I might not go as your date, but yes,” replies Diana with that beautiful smile of hers.

Smiles spread across the lips of the Queen Brothers.  “I guess we should start making plans then,” says Oliver. 

It would seem that Oliver Queen is officially coming out of his shell.  Clark hopes that things turn out well for his older brother.  He’s been through too to have things blow up in his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for her absence, but I can promise all of you that Lois will be in the next chapter. And please excuse the dramatic irony up to this point with Robert’s journal entries. We all know what became of Oliver, but he didn’t.


	21. Chapter Twenty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year to readers old and new! As promised at the end of one of my earlier chapters, this one makes a reference to Neil Gaiman and "American Gods." Great book, one that I recommend to all readers. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_August 24 th, 1999_

_School has started up again for Clark.  For reasons not limited to his brother’s disappearance and most-likely death, this has to be the most melancholy start of any school year for Clark.  At least that I can remember.  While still an assertive young man, he’s become much more reserved about it.  Beyond the polite gestures and good manners, Clark mostly shuts himself off from most people._

_His brother was always the one who could get him to be more extroverted.  At one point when Oliver was still with us, Clark had even become a bit flirtatious for a boy his age.  I thought it looked a bit ridiculous, but I did see him elicit a few giggles from the girls his age.  The one girl who seemed the most captivated by Clark has been his best friend, Chloe.  In fact, in these hard few months, Chloe has gotten Clark to come out of his shell more than anyone._

_Chloe is an insatiably curious individual.  Sometimes her curiosity gets her into trouble, but she does value her friendships.  It’s not my place, but sometimes I’d like to ask her what’s more important to her—her ambitions as a journalist, or her friendships, especially with my son, Clark.  She’s naïve, but she will learn at some point._

_One recent development that I find welcomingly amusing is this—Clark has taken up tango lessons in town.  Even more amusing, Chloe has joined him.   A part of me feels like it’s some sort of rebellion from all the years of ballet that his mother put him through.  Perhaps Clark resented his ballet lessons earlier in his life, but he’s learned to enjoy them.  Maybe he just wants to learn a different kind of dance that is entirely his choice.  Maybe he wants to be in a learning environment where he gets clumsy when he gets too close to Lana Lang.  As much as I would that the reason is because he has a crush on the girl (_ she _is the one who has a crush on_ him _) I think it has something to do with the necklace she wears.  It’s a green crystal dangling by the corners from a silver chain._

_I asked about it once out of polite curiosity.  Her aunt answered for her, explaining that it was a piece of meteor rock like the ones from the meteor shower of 1989.  Considering what the shower did to the poor girl’s family, it seems like a morbid reminder to me.  My first impulse was to sneak it away from her and just as quietly slip her a similar necklace with an emerald.  Nell is no jeweler, but I have a paranoid feeling that she, or maybe even Lana will eventually figure out that it’s not the same crystal._

_Instead, I simply talked Lana and Clark’s ballet instructor into having her not wear it when they practiced their routines.  The people of Smallville know me to not be a bribing man, or one to employ the use of blackmail, but also that I can be very persuasive, and I try to return favors as best I can.  It’s no secret that it greatly distinguishes me from Lionel Luthor._

_Employing things like fear and blackmail are useless.  Sure, they can get the job done, but how long will it be before the oppressed pushed back?  I’m not innocent of using fear to get what I want, but I don’t use it casually or with a sense of enjoyment._

_Clark might have become something of a broody boy who keeps to himself, but I hope he doesn’t bottle up his emotions too much.  I’d hate to see him reach a breaking point.  I dread to see would happen when he breaks._

_All I can do is hope that the efforts of me, my wife, friends like the Kents, Chloe Sullivan, and even that boy Pete Ross pay off so it doesn’t happen._

“Okay, Chloe remind why again I agreed to come with you to this stupid party?” urges Lois from the other side of the bathroom door.

Chloe rolls her eyes as she carefully puts a pair of long earrings—that Clark gave her once—in her ears.  “Clark and Oliver are our friends,” she repeats for what feels like the umpteenth time. 

“Chloe, this is just an excuse for rich snobs to get together, wear tailored dresses with four or five digits in the price tags, and drink pricy champagne.  All the while they more or less ignore the people serving their drinks as if they really think they are superior to them.”

Chloe scoffs.  “Lois, unless being in college has made you forget, Clark and Oliver are _not_ snobs.  We’re going because I was given an invitation that allowed me one guest.  And being someone who Oliver Queen calls a friend, it’ll make things more bearable for him.”

Lois is silent for several minutes, giving Chloe enough time to finish her hair and makeup.  She’s never grown her hair out further than the nape of her neck, but she likes to think that there’s a lot she can do with the little amount of hair she has.  Her hair, which shines with a faint amount of glitter, is piled up on her head in a formal coif of curls with her bangs hanging loosely over her eyes.  In terms of makeup, her lips are red with a touch of lipstick and her eyes are darkened by small amount of eye shadow. 

Perhaps, without meaning to, she’s done just about everything that would impress Clark.  Even her dress is, what she feels, is a lovely shade of blue.  Maybe it’s normal to mentally revert to the things your ex liked.  Clark is an easy guy to impress, but like anybody, he does have his favorites.  Either way, Chloe can bet that Clark will ask her to dance with him. 

Chloe checks her watch.  She sighs.  “Lo, you’re going to come out at some point and I’m not going to this thing without you.”

“Chloe, if Clark and Oliver wanted to do things that didn’t require me to wear a dress, I’d be more willing,” argues Lois from the other side of the door. 

Chloe scoffs.  “You’d only settle for a something that involved video games and beer.  And you look great in dresses!”

“You’re right about the video games and beer,” agrees Lois with a laugh.  “But I look terrible in dresses.  Well, at least I don’t look as great as you do in dresses.”

Chloe stands and observes herself in the mirror.  A surprise gift from her father, Gabe, it’s a single-shoulder satiny gown with a cinched bow detail at the waist and a full-length pleated skirt.  According to Clark, blue dresses sometimes make her eyes look a little grayer than green, but still brings out that piercing texture that he has always convinced her she had.  Maybe Lois is right.  She does look great in dresses.  Then again, she’s more comfortable in dresses than her army brat cousin.

Time is getting tighter.  Chloe puts her hands on her hips and rolls her eyes.  “Alright, Lois, either you’re coming out or I am coming in.  One, two, three, four…”

The door flies open and Lois steps out.  Chloe turns around so that she can have a better view of her cousin.  She looks her up and down. 

“I know, I look ridiculous,” complains Lois, staring down at herself contemptuously.

Chloe blinks as she slowly takes in her cousin’s appearance.  “Actually, Lois,” she begins, “you look beautiful.”

Lois looks surprised by Chloe’s compliment.  “Really?” she goes to stand by the mirror.  She looks herself up and down.  “Well, then I guess we’ll be the hottest girls there.”

Chloe grimaces.  Still, if only to indulge her cousin, she goes to stand beside her.  Upon inspecting herself in the tall mirror with her cousin, she suspects she’s right.  “Let’s go then.”

“Cool; I’m driving.”

“Don’t get us a speeding ticket,” Chloe begs, but Lois is already out the door. 

 

***

 

Clark can tell even as he, his brother, and Diana stand in the elevator leading up to one of Queen Tower’s ballrooms that Oliver is not enjoying himself.  A little quick to judge, but Oliver is still in working through the trauma of coming home to see that their parents are dead.  Publicity might help better his image with the public and the company, but what’s it supposed to do for his emotional health? 

Clark would very much like to throttle everyone for making Oliver go through with this.  He voiced it back at the house, not realizing that Diana had overheard him.  At first he was scared because of what she overheard him say, but then she said that she could lend him her shield and use it “as violently as possible.”

Diana promised them—or mostly just Oliver—that he didn’t have to stay the full duration of the event.  He just needs to stay long enough to make a good impression, shake a few hands, smile for the cameras, and be a gentleman. 

Clark and his brother didn’t have time to go to a tailor, so they simply got out their older tuxes.  Oliver might have spent five years on an island, but Clark is better at tying ties and he helped his brother with his bow tie.  Diana had run some errands and, to their surprise and delight, she got them both boutonnieres.  As per their favorite colors, she got a green one for Oliver and a blue one for Clark.

Having more liberty in what to wear to a formal event, Diana had a dress to wear.  Way to make Clark and Oliver’s cheeks turn as red as fire trucks, their mentor’s gown is a little too attractive. 

Golden white with a glittery, almost stelliferous twinkle to it, her dress, at least to Clark almost looks like a bunch of scraps carefully put together to create something that will definitely have every man stop and stare.  The full-length skirt hugs her legs very well, save for the slit, exposing her right leg when she walks.  A single sleeve covers her right arm while her left arm is bare save for a bracelet on her upper arm.  One of the…scraps comes around to hide her right breast, leading up to her opposite shoulder like a sash with a gold band at the shoulder which connects the sleeve, leaving her back mostly uncovered.  The other scrap goes straight down, covering her other breast, while the middle of her chest is mostly exposed along with a sliver of her left breast at the proper angle.  To complete the gown, her long golden earrings and black hair tied securely in the back of her head in a large chignon bun make her look very much like a goddess. 

Clark has seen her more recently than his brother, so he’s a little more accustomed to her ostentatious style in formal wear.  That doesn’t mean that she doesn’t make him blush every so often, but at least he’s able to accompany her, with her hand wrapped around his elbow, without him staring at her breasts, or her thigh. 

Diana did scold Oliver for not thinking to pick up his girlfriend, Tess, at her apartment.  At least Oliver knew better than to talk back or complain.  Diana was going as Clark’s date simply because he had no date.  Naturally his first thought was to ask Chloe, but even if she is his best friend he’s trying to stay behind the line of “best friend” and not “boyfriend and girlfriend.”  Maybe he’s overcompensating, but since her father still works for Queen Industries, she received an invitation.  Due to Gabe being home ill, he wonders who she’s bringing as her guest. 

She’s no longer his girlfriend, but the thought of her with some other guy just makes him want to hurt someone.  He knows that he should be moving on and being jealous is _not_ moving on, but how can this be easy?  He wonders if she’s having as much trouble as he is in terms of moving on, even if she was the one who said they should break up. 

Maybe the fact that she’s still his best friend makes it easier for him to not obsess over her…or maybe it’s just a really big elephant in the room.  As the elevator nears their destination a thought hits him.  Chloe, Mr. Morningstar, and most recently, Diana, have all expressed hope that he would find a woman just as special to fill that empty space.  He might not find, or at least he will have considerable trouble, finding another woman who shares his indefinite longevity, but maybe that’s okay. 

He remembers Diana telling him, when talking about her lover, Steve Trevor, that she wouldn’t have changed anything.  Even if he himself might not age, there’s a certain beauty in being able to love someone even as they grow old and die.  What would make it very special for that woman is that even as she grows old, Clark would be devoted to her no matter what. 

Clark is abruptly pulled from his thoughts as the elevator slows to a halt. 

“Here goes nothing,” Oliver mutters dispassionately.

“ _Behave_ ,” Diana commands in Ancient Greek.

“ _As you wish_ ,” replies Oliver submissively.  “ _Now once these doors open, it might be best if we stick to English._ ”

Diana whines playfully.  “I guess it will be that much more difficult to keep our conversations private.”

The doors open and instantly cameras begin to flash.  Being a Queen, Clark is a prominent figure within the media, but right now it’s the long-lost Oliver Queen that the publicity is most interested in.  It pleases him not to be the center of attention for once—he had enough of that when his parents died—but he does feel bad for Oliver. 

Oliver does seem to be holding himself up pretty well.  It’s all a façade of course, but he’s smiling and shaking hands with people as if he’s genuinely having a good time.  Clark hopes that nothing that will set his brother off, from an unwanted guest to an insensitive question, happens.  At that point, not even Diana’s command for him to behave will keep him from lashing out. 

Diana communicates with them in Ancient Greek as much to show them that she’s being serious as to have private, meaningful conversations.  In a way it deepens their bond.

Eventually, Tess, wearing a strapless purple gown with a flared full-length skirt complete with a pearl necklace finds them. 

“You made it!” she exclaims with a bright smile.

Seeing someone who Clark knows doesn’t annoy him, Oliver’s smile turns more genuine.  “Tess.”  He looks her over appreciatively.  “You look beautiful.”

Tess’s smile turns a little more self-conscious as she hides her smile.  Then she notices Diana. 

“You must be Diana Prince,” she presumes. 

Diana smiles approvingly.  “So you’re the young lady who saved Oliver from the island.  Thank you for that.”

Now Tess blushes.  “It was really a chance encounter and you could say we saved each other’s lives.”

Diana raises an eyebrow as her gaze slowly shifts between Oliver and Tess.  “Hmm, you’re going to have to elaborate on that at some point.  Now go run along.”

As per her request, Tess takes Oliver’s wrist and drags him away.     

That’s when people finally start paying attention to Clark, they ask who the woman attached to his arm is. 

“This is an old family friend of mine, Diana Prince,” Clark introduces politely.

Diana squeezes his arm appreciatively, showing her approval.  Clark has to fight from giving himself a literal pat on the back. 

“What does she do?” asks one of the reporters.

“She’s a curator at the Louvre in Paris,” replies Clark.  _How many more questions must I answer?_   He shares a look with his mentor.  There’s a faint curve in her lip.  Taking it as a vote of confidence, Clark straightens up and begins talking to people.

 

***

 

“Trixie, will you stop fidgeting with your dress?” Lucifer begs almost impatiently as they stand in the elevator together.

Trixie was not excited to be accompanying him to this shindig held by Queen Industries.  In fact, some of her apprehensiveness reminds him of her mother, Chloe.  Even when Lucifer got Chloe to join him for a formal event, before and after they were married, she tended to have a gun strapped to her thigh, or have one hidden in her handbag. 

He might not have to worry about Trixie hiding a gun somewhere, but he did make sure she didn’t have anything sharp or pointy. 

Trixie glances down at her black dress with wide straps and tame neckline and full-length skirt shrouded in a silky black shawl.  He has been tempted, but one way that he honors his late wife’s memory is not buying overly revealing dresses.  He can’t control what she buys for herself, so long as she stays within her allowance, but he does his best. 

“Lucifer how many of these people actually care about Oliver Queen?” asks Trixie reasonably.  She’s referring to the reason behind this event, Queen Industries formally welcoming Oliver Queen back from the dead.  “How many of them would you say are just doing this to make a good impression with the public?”

There’s something that’s changed quite a bit since Lucifer first met her.  She’s developed a more cynical attitude towards people.  She has explicitly stated that she has no interest in law enforcement, but Lucifer can happily say that she thinks like a detective.  He has no reservations about saying it, but he does wish she would take it as a compliment. 

“You make a fair point, darling, but why should that stop you from having a good time?” he counters.  “You’re not here to make a good impression, are you?”

Trixie is silent for several minutes, long enough for them to reach their floor.  She sighs heavily.  “No.”

Lucifer smiles triumphantly.  “Why are you here?”

“To have a good time with my friends,” replies Trixie monotonously, as if she were reciting a script.

“Good, now why don’t you turn that frown upside down?  You might even be as devilishly charming as I am.”

Trixie scoffs at the elevator slows to a stop.  “That’s easy for you to say; you _are_ the devil.”

“No decision of mine,” Lucifer reminds her.  “It was the draconian consequence of disagreeing with Dad.”  It wasn’t until Trixie was old enough to tease him for his “daddy issues” that Lucifer started complaining less about his predicament.  However, the one rebellious act that he will never be ashamed of is becoming a married man and having a child of his own.

The doors slide open and Lucifer takes the brief second to make sure his bow tie is straight.  Trixie catches him off-guard by slipping her gloved hand around his arm.  He glances down at her.  She smiles up at him and Lucifer can’t fight back the fatherly smile that spreads across his lips. 

 _Is this what you feel all the time, Dad?_ Lucifer prays silently.  Or does He ever wish that He could visit more often?  Does He ever wish His children would take the time to notice when He was holding their hand, or resting a hand on their shoulder?  Lucifer tries not to think too hard on it, but he has learned to count his blessings more often.

“Let’s join the crowd, darling,” he invited with a tempting wink.  The giggle that comes out of Trixie, something that would normally elicit a smug smile, just makes his heart sing.  He takes a step forward into the crowd. 

  


***

 

Diana can barely suppress the proud texture of her smile as Clark leads her gracefully in a waltz.  Dance is not one of the things that she taught him, although she did encourage him to study hard. 

A few minutes ago, when Clark grew tired of speaking to people, he surprised her by asking her to dance.  Diana doesn’t know why, but her first thought was that he would draw attention to them by leading her in a ballet or a contemporary tango.  She was sorely wrong when he just ended up leading her in this waltz to match the movement of the dancers around them.

“ _You never cease to amaze me, Clark Queen_ ,” Diana compliments in Ancient Greek.  Oliver never does either, but he doesn’t dance like Clark can. 

Clark smiles bashfully, making her feel a little guilty.  With everyone else, he held himself high with a confident smile and great manners.  She compliments something about him and he blushes.  She wonders why he can’t just say thank you.

“ _My mother always told me that a woman likes a man who can dance,”_ Clark explains, continuing their private conversation. 

Diana chuckles as Clark twirls her.  _“I’m not sure about that, but I definitely find it to be an attractive talent.  You will make a woman very happy one day.”_   Almost as soon as she says it, she regrets it.  He was in a meaningful relationship and she hates seeing him be sad about the breakup.  She would be furious if their breakup wasn’t as amicable as it was.  He will overcome this mourning period eventually.

 _“You haven’t lost Chloe’s love, Clark,”_ she reminds him confidently.  _“In fact, I believe it’s because that you two care for each other so much that you ought to find someone else to love for now.  Even I didn’t have that luxury.  I only loved one man.  I would have walked through the underworld and back like Orpheus if it meant seeing my Steve again.”_

 _“Not to sound insensitive, Aunt Di, but didn’t Orpheus make the mistake of looking back_ before _he and Eurydice left the underworld?”_ asks Clark.

Diana averts her gaze from Clark.  His tone was gentle and anything but insensitive.  As she ponders the question, she wonders if she would have been the Orpheus to Steve’s Eurydice.  In an act of benevolence, Hades did allow Eurydice to return to the land of the living with Orpheus, but only if Orpheus didn’t look back until they both passed the threshold.  Would she have been made the same mistake?  Even after all these years, Steve Trevor’s lovely face and even his voice still flood her dreams.  She longs for the rare moments when she doesn’t wake up before she has an opportunity to touch him in every way.

 _“I’m sorry, Aunt Di,”_ Clark apologizes in earnest.  _“I shouldn’t have asked you that question.”_

Diana shakes her head.  _“There’s no need, Clark.  If it makes you feel any better, I can’t count the number of times I asked my mother, Hippolyta, and my Aunt Antiope uncomfortable questions.”_

Clark narrows his eyes.  _“What did they do?”_

Diana smiles fondly at the memories.  _“Amazons are raised like Spartans, trained from childhood to be warriors.  If I slighted Antiope, or my mother in any way as I grew older the punishments became harsher.”_   She leans in close so she can whisper in her apprentice’s ear.  _“But don’t worry; I’m not nearly as harsh as they were.”_

 _“I’ll keep that in mind,”_ Clark whimpers.

The song ends and the two cease their dance.  Being unnecessarily formal, Clark lifts Diana’s hand to his lips and plants a kiss upon it.

She giggles.  Then she looks around until her eyes spot Chloe Sullivan and her cousin, Lois Lane.  They look lovely, if Diana says so herself.  To her, Chloe always looks lovely, even now in that blue single-shoulder dress.  Her cousin, Lois Lane, she makes her stare a little bit.  Diana has only known Lois Lane a very short time, but from how Clark has described her, through emails as well as her own observations, she doesn’t wear dresses much.  The dress she’s wearing right now really brings the woman out of the otherwise tomboyish appeal that Diana feels she possesses.

Black, satiny, and figure-hugging, the dress has no back and it offers a revealing display of the hills of her breasts.  The wide straps loop around her arms to come together in the back, making it look as if there might have been a back to the dress, but was skillfully cut out.  Diana can also make out matching black Prada stilettos—a great departure from the usual sneakers that Diana has seen her wear in some of the pictures Clark sent in his emails.  To top it off, her dyed light brown hair is pulled back slightly in a loose knot while most of it hangs on the back of her head in a twirl of loose waves.  

 _What a lovely young woman,_ Diana thinks to herself.  She looks up at Clark and he can’t take his eyes off of Lois.  She has to suppress her chuckles. 

 _“Why don’t you go spend time with your friends?”_ she invites in Ancient Greek.  When Clark doesn’t move, she places a hand on his back and forces him forward.  Thankfully, he takes the hint and straightens himself out as he goes over to greet his friends.  If Clark falls for that young lady, Diana fears it might complicate things between him and Chloe.  Even if Chloe doesn’t feel any initial betrayal, if a relationship between Clark and her cousin doesn’t work out, it might drive a wedge between them. 

However, Diana has what she fears is a strange amount of faith in Clark and Oliver Queen.  She has faith that they will both find true love.  She also has faith that they will both make good choices with their abilities one day. 

“I’ve been watching the two of you for a few minutes now and I must say that your Ancient Greek is remarkable.”

Having caught her by complete surprise, Diana inhales sharply.  She turns around slowly to come face to face with the tall figure of Lucifer Morningstar.  Something about the man bothers her immensely, but she can’t tell exactly what it is.

“Mr. Morningstar,” she greets, inclining her head.

The man chuckles as he lifts her hand to his lips.  “Please, call me Lucifer.  And may I have this dance?”

She wants to say no, but her curiosity gets the better of her.  She places her free hand on his shoulder and then, seemingly with no input from her brain, her feet begin to move with the classical music. 

“Do you speak Ancient Greek?” asks Diana in English.

 _“I have at least some understanding of every language, madam,”_ replies Lucifer in Ancient Greek.  _“There are even a few dead languages that I speak very well.”_

Impulsively, she challenges him and he quite impressively recites poetic passages in Ancient Greek, Roman, Chinese, Japanese, Urdu, old Swedish, and in the dead language of Gaulish before she grows tired of asking. 

“And how old are you?” asks Diana.  She might be interrogating him a bit, but she can’t help herself. 

“Older than you and older than the paganism of the Ancient Greeks,” replies Lucifer confidently.

Diana scoffs.  “I highly doubt that.”  She cocks her head.  “And you speak of Greek paganism a little contemptuously.  Why is that?”

Lucifer smiles, looking excited to voice his opinion.  “For academic purposes, the stories of the Olympians and the heroes of Ancient Greece—and even Ancient Rome—are all quite fascinating.  It’s also quite amusing when children become old enough to see all the sex, rape, and gratuitous violence that flood those stories.  Even the Bible is no exception to those qualities.

“As for reality, that’s something a little more complex.  The Olympians that the Ancient Greeks worshipped as gods and goddesses, sculpting idols and building impressive temples of, were no more than a bunch of disgusting frauds.”

The word almost causes Diana to miss a step.  Before she lets the anger blooming within her consume her, she rationalizes that he may just be an ignorant scholar.  “Frauds?” she repeats as evenly as she can.

“It’s really putting it mildly to be honest,” Lucifer continues unabashedly.  “You see there were people named Zeus, Poseidon, Hades, Hera, Hephaestus, Aphrodite, Hermes, Apollo, Artemis, and so on—even the titans—but they weren’t anything but gods and goddesses.  There is only one god, and He blessed all those people with special abilities—the abilities that the Greeks would later worship them for.  Zeus had the power of lightning; Poseidon could control the seas, Hades had power over the dead…you understand.  They were meant to use those powers for good.  They did for a time, such as when they defeated the Titans, but then their hubris grew. 

“People who witnessed their powers, people who had turned their backs against God, people who grew tired of waiting to see the signs of a true God that were right in front of them all along, saw them as higher beings.  If they were more humble, they would have shown them that they were not gods.  They were simply people with divine gifts from God.  Instead they reveled in how they were being worshipped.  And they even started to believe that they were gods.

“As for Mount Olympus, the reason why that inhospitable mountain with too many peaks was dubbed the home of the Olympians is because it’s where Zeus and his equally gifted brothers and sisters cursed God.  Now the part of Mount Olympus being the highest mountain in Greece and all that is perfectly true, but it’s only part of the truth.

“And then of course, eventually, there was that whole altercation with Ares that led to the destruction of the Olympians and much of humanity.”  A chuckle escapes Lucifer’s lips.  “The Lord works in mysterious ways and the Olympians got what was coming for them.  Poor Zeus, after all those times that he cheated on poor Hera—or really most of the Olympians, even if infidelity wasn’t their sin—had enough sins to fill a book.

“Neil Gaiman was almost half-right when he wrote his book _American Gods_ arguing that the gods we worship exist purely because people believe in them.”

Diana is silent for several long minutes.  She can’t believe what she’s hearing.  This is utter blasphemy!  A part of her wants to destroy him for such a grievous insult to the Greek gods, her family.  Another part of her is a bit more ponderous.  Is there some truth to what he is saying?  Could the gods she was taught to worship as child be no more than a group of powerful people whose overinflated status as heroes made them allow people to truly see them as such?  Could she really be no more than the bastard daughter of a powerful man?  Is she not truly a goddess? 

“I’m sorry, Ms. Prince, have I offended you?”

Diana is pulled from her thoughts to gaze up at Lucifer’s concerned expression.  How embarrassing would it be to put a dent in those ridiculously good looks?  She forces a smile.  “You do seem to have a carefully thought out opinion of the gods.”

A toothy smile spreads across Lucifer’s lips.  “It’s no opinion; it’s fact.”

Now she loses it.  She hasn’t completely lost control, but she does let go of him abruptly and stalks away from the crowd, towards the elevator.  She ignores Lucifer as he calls after her, but feels a little more ashamed of herself as Clark and Oliver both call after her. 

She just needs to step away before she seriously hurts someone.

 

***

 

Lois is just about ready to kill her cousin.  Chloe knows how much she hates functions like these and worse, she made her put on this uncomfortably revealing dress.  Lois is proud of her body, but she feels so…exposed.  At least Chloe didn’t get her something that was pink.  In a sense, Lois feels a little jealous of her cousin.

Chloe looks good in any color, in any dress, but Lois doesn’t feel that she has that same quality.  When they arrived ten minutes ago, Lois found herself analyzing just about everyone.  It’s that same analytical streak that Chloe thinks would make her a good reporter.  Observing everyone, even if it’s mostly guesswork, she could point to people and think those people don’t really want to be here; that man by the bar had a bad breakup and is drowning his sorrows in tequila; that woman is pathetically vain and needs people to compliment her dress (which is skanky to say the least) and her hair; those two tall young men are here more out of obligation rather than actually wanting to be here.  Those two boys are Clark and Oliver Queen.  Those are to people that she knows well enough without having to interview them. 

She doesn’t want to interview them but she does have to investigate them.  The information that she’s already provided the General are solid facts about them—where they were both born, lists of their achievements growing up, and even some academic scores.  The general wasn’t satisfied.  What the hell does he want to know? 

As far as she can tell they are just two filthy rich young men who are trying to pick up the pieces after the deaths of their parents, even if that event was two years ago now.  There’s nothing extraordinary—other than how ridiculously handsome they are—about them.  They are a perfectly normal set of brothers. 

In a rare moment of wisdom, the General explained to her that no family is completely “normal.”  Eventually, she lost it and told him to go to hell.  The General then got very close to her and told her,

“Okay, but I’ll be dragging you down with me, young lady.”

That was his way of saying “strike one.”  Second strike, he might arrange to have her thrown out of MetU.  Third strike, not only will he invent a reason to have the Queens—her friends—arrested—but she would never see Chloe again.  A part of her wanted to shove one of his cigars lit end first down his throat for threatening her cousin.  A second part of her wondered why in the hell he would be threatening Chloe of all people.  What interest does he have in her, other than that of a distant uncle?  The third part of her forced herself to back down, if only because she is genuinely terrified of what her father would do to her cousin.

So even though she hates herself for it, Lois has upped her game in trying to find facts about the Queens.  What’s so special about them that her father is willing to threaten Chloe just to get a peek into their dirty secrets?

An interesting starting place would be their relationship with that French woman, Diana Prince.  Upon seeing the woman’s flimsy white dress, Lois began to feel a lot better about her own dress.  The black, satiny figure-hugging scrap is giving her an unwanted amount of attention, but being with Chloe makes it more bearable.  Then again, Lois feels that the two of them put together makes for a ridiculous attractive pair.

Lois and Chloe were ordering sparkling cider when Clark Queen came towards them. 

“Looking spiffy, Smallville,” compliments Lois, after observing him thoughtfully. 

Clark smiles warmly.  “Thanks, Lois.  I could say the same about the two of you.”

Out of the corner of Lois’ eye, she sees her cousin blush furiously.  When she heard the two of them had officially broken up, she was ready to make good on her promise to kick the billionaire’s ass.  However, when Chloe explained to her that it was amicable and that Clark was as distraught about it as she, Lois’ sisterly instincts kicked in and she comforted her cousin.

Also, seeing as how they still care very much about each other…Lois reluctantly allowed Clark to live.

Right now Lois would very much like to ask the hunk to quit staring at her, even if his expression is very thoughtful. 

“You really don’t want to be here, do you?” asks Clark.

Lois finds herself smiling approvingly.  “Well aren’t you more observant that Chloe gives you credit for.  Although, I’m starting to feel like you, your brother, Chloe, and I would all rather be sharing milkshakes right now.”

Clark exchanges a look with Chloe, both of which seem to share that sentiment. 

“Maybe we’ll do just that when we’re done here,” Chloe suggests.

“Assuming Tess doesn’t drag Oliver into bed,” Clark mutters. 

A laugh escapes Lois’ throat and Chloe joins in.  “Well don’t you have a naughty imagination,” Lois marvels. 

Clark shrugs.  “That’s Chloe’s fault.”

Chloe gasps indignantly, albeit playfully.  “I hardly had anything to do with that, mister!”

“That’s probably true, but you’re still the only person who can be unbearably snarky and ridiculously gorgeous at the same time,” Clark counters. 

Lois lifts an eyebrow.  “Huh, it’s nice to see that being broken up hasn’t stopped you two from flirting with each other.” 

Chloe and Clark frown at her and she immediately regrets speaking before thinking.  Chloe is definitely less impulsive than she is, or at least she’s become significantly less impulsive than she has been in the last few years.  Lois wonders why that is. 

“Excuse me?”

Lois is pulled from her thoughts as she, Clark, and Chloe turn their heads to view Trixie Morningstar.  She has to blink a few times.  Trixie definitely wears that black dress than she does.  With those wide straps that hang loosely on her shoulders, black gloves, ruffled bodice, and wide flowing skirt that is an amazing combination of ruffle and fluff, she looks like a Gothic Cinderella. 

Clark is the first to break the silence.  “Trixie, how good to see you.”

Trixie’s lip curves upward slightly.  Lois hasn’t seen her as much as Clark or Chloe, but it seems to be the closest Trixie has come to actually smiling.  “I really didn’t want to be here.”

“Join the club,” Clark, Chloe, and Lois say in unison. 

“We might go out for milkshakes when it becomes appropriate for us to leave,” Chloe mentions.  “I’m sure we can make room for one more.”

Trixie fixes her brown eyes, intensified by her silvery eyeliner, on Chloe.  “I’d like that,” she says.  Suddenly her cheeks redden a little.  “Um, sorry if this is a little forward, but would you like to dance?”

A collective gasp escapes everyone’s lips as they realize she’s asking Chloe.  Lois shares a look with Clark, who looks as dumbfounded as she does, before they return their eyes to Chloe.  Chloe exchanged a look with them both, as if unsure of how to answer. 

“She’d love to,” Clark answers for her, shocking both Lois and Chloe. 

Chloe doesn’t budge and Trixie steps forward slightly.  Maybe it’s because she hasn’t seen her smile much, but Trixie’s smile is blindingly beautiful as she extends a hand out to Chloe.

Chloe hesitantly raises her own hand to meet Trixie’s.  Lois knows that her hesitance has nothing to do with homophobia or anything like that.  It’s probably just that Lois doesn’t remember her actually being asked such a question by a girl.

Chloe and Trixie’s hands lock together and quite a few eyes stop and stare as Trixie leads her onto the dance floor and begins to lead her in a graceful waltz.  The only person who looks something other than shocked is Lucifer Morningstar, whose dance partner seems to have abandoned him.  The tearful pride in his eyes sparks a little bit of envy in Lois.  She sure didn’t see that kind of look from her own father when she was questioning her sexuality. 

As Chloe and Trixie dance, Lois tears her gaze from them to glance up at Clark.  He looks on the verge of tears as well.  She actually feels bad for him.  At the same time, she feels that the gesture might have been an emotional step forward for him, closing that chapter what was his romantic relationship with her cousin. 

Lois will be damned if she were to find such a dignified man like that.  “I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for you,” she comforts. 

Clark chuckles piteously.  “Even if she does rebound quicker than I do, I believe the two of us always be a little jealous of whoever we move on to.”

Lois smiles thoughtfully.  “I’m not sure if there are too many girls out there that actually deserve you.”

The only response she gets out of that is him rolling his eyes.  They are silent for several minutes, just watching the dancers who don’t seem uncomfortable dancing near a pair of girls.

“You’re not surprised by this, are you?” asks Lois conversationally.

Clark scoffs.  “Not in the slightest.  Chloe might kill us both if she found out I told you this, but she once suggested a threesome between me, her, and Lana Lang.”

Lois almost spits out her sip of cider, but manages not to cough.

“She was being silly, but she said that maybe it might appease Lana’s crush on me,” Clark continues.  “Chloe’s been attracted to girls for as long as I’ve known her.  Sometimes I think I’m the only guy that she was ever truly attracted to.”

Lois would call him on how arrogant that sounds, but through her own observations, plus the way Chloe always talked about him, she would have to agree.

“Say, Lois, would you like to dance?”

 _That_ makes her choke on her cider and Clark has to steady her as she coughs.  When she catches her breath, she glances up at him.  She watches as he comes to stand in front of her and offer his hand.  Her eyes shift down to his hand, momentarily thinking that it’s covered in grime—it’s actually quite clean—before returning to meet his blue-eyed gaze. 

“I’m a terrible dancer,” she informs him as she fights back her blush.  The offer is strangely making her feel like a desirable woman.  The feeling isn’t like anything that she’s felt before.  All she knows for sure is that she really doesn’t like it.    

Clark smiles confidently.  “So was I at one point in my life.”  He still has his hand extended. 

A part of her wants to say yes; a part of her wants to slap his hand away; she wants to ask if this is simply because the one he truly wanted to dance with was taken already.  That last thought doesn’t seem to ring true.  Maybe he really does just want to dance with her. 

She raises her glass to him in salute before giving him her signature smirk.  “Let’s take a rain check on that offer.”  With that, she finishes her cider in one gulp and walks past him.  She seeks out Oliver Queen, to interview him.  After a couple of minutes searching, she only finds Tess Mercer.

“Hey, do you know where Oliver is?”

The redhead scowls briefly, but Lois doesn’t think that it’s meant for her.  “Well isn’t that a question that we’d both like to know.”

Lois can’t hide her disappointment.  Well if his own girlfriend doesn’t know where he is, then where did Oliver Queen run off to?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did my best to describe the dress that Diana wore to that museum in Batman vs Superman. I hope I delivered. 
> 
> Here are links to some of the dresses that I attempted to describe
> 
> Lois' dress  
> http://www.zimbio.com/photos/Erica+Durance/CW+Launch+Party+Arrivals/P_TRIG6nOQb
> 
> Chloe's dress  
> https://www.modaoperandi.com/elie-saab-r18/lame-crepe-one-shoulder-gown?gclid=Cj0KCQiA1afSBRD2ARIsAEvBsNkGWrIbOSwp9vFEzE_g6R8380dYWbrAHAtdAS1Vq-IdW9oOpFHYwcsaAmHmEALw_wcB
> 
> And I'm sorry that there was no dance between Clois.
> 
> I am happy that I’m even able to write still. After over two months of relentless overtime I’m mostly burnt out. Yet I still write. Chances are that I’ll have even more mandatory overtime in these following weeks. We’ll see what happens.


	22. Chapter Twenty-One

_October 4 th, 1999_

_I have a problem.  Actually, I should say that_ Clark _is the one with a problem.  Over at Jonathan’s farm he’s been practicing a new talent and he hasn’t been doing too well.  In fact, it’s become quite amusing watching him try and try again.  Even Laura can’t always contain her laughs and we all just end up watching and sharing popcorn._

_I guess I should explain._

_Last weekend, Clark was out running during one of his “alone times.”  For some reason, it led them to Reever Dam.  My people have already swept the area years ago for the green meteor rocks.  In fact, they did find some blue meteor rock as well.  I first found blue meteor rocks a few years ago and I tested to see what kind of effect it had on Clark._

_It doesn’t harm him per se, but he is as susceptible to injury as any human being so long as he’s exposed to it.  It can also make humans extremely healthy.  Utilizing the effects it has on Clark, it’s made training him in fencing and martial arts much easier.  All he has to do is wear a bracelet that I had fashioned out of blue meteor rock, or using a blue meter rock-tipped sword for fencing._

_Anyway, even if there was nothing at Reever Dam that could harm Clark, I still didn’t feel too comfortable with him being out alone.  From what he told me, some neighborhood bullies, among them Whitney Fordman, had cornered Clark at the dam.  As much as I encourage Clark to stand up for himself he can still be a bit meek.  It’s because he knows that he can seriously hurt someone just by letting them punch him.  Oliver was always really good about being protective of his brother and with him being gone, it seems some of the boys have been exploiting that weakness._

_Clark didn’t give me all the details, but Whitney and his buddies started pushing Clark around.  One of them tore off Clark’s arrowhead charmed necklace.  That same boy threw the necklace over the ledge of the dam.  Clark tried to catch it before it sailed over and he lost his balance and fell over the edge._

_I can’t imagine how scared Clark must have been.  Knowing that he wouldn’t have hurt himself, I wasn’t as scared as I feel I should have been.  What happened afterwards left me awed.  Clark told me he had squeezed his eyes just and screamed all the way down.  He told me he just kept screaming and screaming but then realized that he “should have hit the ground by then.”  He opened his eyes to find that he was floating several feet off the ground with the necklace firmly clutched in his hand._

_My son was floating!  And if that wasn’t enough, he told me that he had trouble figuring out how to get down so he thought of something else.  Floating quickly turned to_ flying _as Clark “thought forward.”  He ended up tearing through a number of trees and knocking down a water tower and blasting through a barn and nicking a ten-foot chunk off of the Luthor Mansion (my personal favorite) as he tried to “fly” back to the house._

_I was stuck at work that weekend and when I saw Clark floating outside my office window, I must have looked like a hooligan as I jumped and sent papers flying everywhere.  I am thankful that it was a foggy day.  I doubt anyone saw him.  He just floated out there and waved at me pitifully.  I rushed over to my balcony and stepped out into the crisp afternoon air._

_“You’re flying,” are the only words I could form in my mouth._

_Clark was frantic.  After explaining everything, he was telling me that he couldn’t figure out how to get down.  I tried pulling him down.  I almost went over the ledge.  I then suggested that he think a sad thought._

_“Who am I—Uncle Albert from_ Mary Poppins _?” Clark screamed at me.  Okay, and he definitely isn’t covered in magical fairy dust (it was probably a good thing I didn’t mention that) we brainstormed.  What were his thoughts when he was falling?  He just really didn’t want to hit the ground.  How did he fly all the way here?  He told me that he thought “forward” and listed all the destruction during his way over.  Poor kid._

_It took a few minutes, but then the idea occurred to me.  I encouraged him to think “down.”  Enjoying my little Yoda moment, I coached him as he tried to visualize descending to the point that he landed softly next to me._

_He did not land softly.  He ended falling through three stories before he stopped…on his face.  The building was mostly empty, but I still had to invent an elaborate story to tell to the contractor._

_Laura, Jonathan, and Martha were all very excited to hear of Clark’s new ability.  I spoke to Virgil and he too seemed quite pleased, though not very surprised.  Well, he knows more about Clark’s true heritage than anyone I know._

_So, lately, when Clark isn’t working on homework, or doing chores, he’s trying to get a grip on his flight.  He’s not doing too well to say the least.  He put a hole in the roof of Jonathan’s barn (that came out of Clark’s allowance).  Right now when he’s not landing on his face without even floating a couple feet, he’s like George of the Jungle.  “Watch out for that—bang!”_

_Clark will figure it out.  Sometime.  And Lionel Luthor will be scratching his head as he wondered what the hell happened to his property in Smallville.  Maybe somebody threw something heavy at it.  Maybe God has a really good sense of humor._

_It certainly has been the highlight of an otherwise awful year._

Oliver knows that he shouldn’t be missing his own party.  Everyone who matters knew that the only celebration he actually wanted for his returning was with them…not with a bunch of other rich people that he didn’t know while the cameras flashed.  One thing that he did find curious was he didn’t see Lex Luthor anywhere.  Not that he would have appreciated his company, but what could preoccupy the bald-headed twerp that he couldn’t join the elite from the likes of Metropolis, Star City, and Gotham? 

So Oliver slipped out of his “Welcome Back” party that didn’t even include confetti or party hats or even a cake as quietly as he could.  He is still upset with Tess for blindsiding him with this party, but she did apologize.  Plus, he finds it difficult to stay upset with her for long. 

Feeling more confident about traveling between buildings, Oliver has little difficulty as he sneaks into the LuthorCorp building in his upgraded costume.  He has added a green Kevlar vest to his outfit.  He doesn’t have Clark’s sewing skills, so he didn’t stitch a hood to the vest.  Instead, he simply decided to wear the vest over the sleeveless hoodie.

He has only been to this place once before since he’s been back.  He thought then that the place hadn’t really changed much other than upgraded security systems.  Since finding his dad’s journal and reading that letter, he spent many hours studying the building and how to get past its security.  Not his favorite bit of homework, but he feels that he’s managed to find a way in. 

Also, he managed to find out who the people in the security room were.  Those guys had ordered pizza and he intercepted the delivery man.  He drugged their soda and pizza.  They won’t die, but he does have a three-hour window before they wake up from their drugged-up stupor. 

Even if he has grown confident with zip-lining between buildings, the LuthorCorp building is taller than the Queen Industries clock tower, so he couldn’t use that method without breaking a window.  He quietly through one of the loading bays.  Sticking to the shadows and shooting people with tranquilizer darts when absolutely necessary, Oliver makes his way to the service elevator.

He enters the elevator and selects the floor that Lex’s office is on.  The elevator music is really annoying, making the trip seem all the longer as he stands with his hands clasped behind his back like a gentleman.  When he’s about three-quarters of the way up, the elevator begins to slow. 

 _Oh, crap_ , Oliver thinks.  People can’t see him.  Not when he’s dressed like this.  Frantically, his breath coming up shallow, he searches for a solution.  Then he looks up and sees the emergency hatch.  Knowing that they only open from the outside, he pulls out and arrow with an explosive tip and shoots the hinges.  The impact causes a small _bang_ and a few sparks fly.  He jumps up, cursing that he doesn’t go very high do to the added weight of the elevator going up, and tests the hatch.  It’s loose.  Using his bow, he reaches up and pries it up and shoving it aside.  Then, he jumps and grasps the ledge.  The elevator has just about stopped so he needs to hurry.  With a grunt, he hoists himself up quickly and out of the elevator.  Then, quicker that he thinks that he should be able, he grabs the arrow and puts the hatch back in place just as the elevator doors open.

Now _on top_ of the elevator, he takes a moment to let out a sigh of relief.  His relief however is cut short when he notices the elevator is starting to go down.  _No,_ he thinks.  He needs the elevator to go _up_!  The elevator shaft has two elevators side by side and as he sees the other elevator going up, he makes a split decision and jumps.  He lands on the other elevator just before the two elevators cross paths.  The impact of the elevator going up causes him to lose his balance briefly. 

Once again, his relief is cut short as he looks up.  The top of the elevator shaft is getting scarily closer.  He has nowhere to go, nothing to grasp onto.  He has no idea where this elevator is going to stop and if he doesn’t do something soon, he might get crushed!  Not knowing what else to do, he goes to the emergency hatch, opens it, and jumps into the elevator all within a few seconds.  The elevator did reach the top and since he did not close the hatch again, it gets bent horribly out of place by the ceiling.

Oliver stares at the open hatch for just a minute.  Then he notices that he’s not alone in the elevator. 

He turns and his masked eyes land on a lady in a suit-dress.  A little attractive and probably not even thirty, the young lady just stands there staring at him. 

A toothy smile spreads across Oliver’s lips.  “Hi.”

The young lady doesn’t share his awkward enthusiasm and she reaches for the elevator phone, probably intending to call security. 

“I’m so sorry about this,” Oliver apologizes in earnest.  He selects a tranquilizer dart and jabs it into her neck.  The young lady gasps and soon Oliver grasps her, easing her down into a sitting position as she passes out.  “Usually I prefer to rely on my looks before making a lady swoon, but I’ll make sure you get a decent turkey for Thanksgiving.”

The doors slide open and Oliver is pleased to see that he’s on the floor that he needs to be.  Carefully, he avoids the camera angles so that he doesn’t get caught on camera.  He still has an hour and forty-five minutes before the people behind those cameras wake up, so he should be fine. 

He knows right where the CEO’s office is.  The floor is mostly deserted, so he doesn’t have to worry too much about accidentally bumping into someone.  Self-consciously, he wonders what that young lady thought of his outfit. 

He makes it to the office without difficulty, but finds the door locked.  He gets out his skeleton key and picks the lock.  After breaking into frat houses during his regrettably brief time at college, he has some idea on how to do this.  He doesn’t feel that it’s as easy as the movies make it out to be, but eventually, almost biting a chunk out of his tongue in frustration, he hears a _click_ and he opens the door.  Knowing from his studies that there’s no security checkups connected to the door—other than what would have happened if he smashed he way through the glass doors—he steps into a thankfully empty office. 

Getting out the SD card in his pocket, he heads over to the computer at the desk.  He slides the mouse and the login page shows up.  “Oh crap,” he whispers. 

Even if he had one, he can’t shine a black light on the keyboard as many of the keys have been used most definitely, and he’s not much of a hacker.  Clark is better with computers than he is.  Chloe’s aspirations might lean towards journalism, but she’s a pro when it comes to computers. 

If he doesn’t know the password, then this was all a waste of time.  He takes a few minutes to think.  Lex Luthor is probably the smartest person he knows and the password can be all sorts of things.  The more he thinks, the more he wants to tear his hair out.  It’s just one damn password!  He slumps down in Lex’s surprisingly comfortable chair and spins slowly as he brainstorms.

Luthor—no that’s too easy.

Porsche— _really?_ Oliver asks himself, smacking himself in the back of the head mentally.

Money, astronomy, ineedasoul, icantletthingsgo, Lexie, mydaddysadick, imadick, Prometheus…

Oliver stops spinning.  Prometheus.  He remembers Lex talking about Prometheus all the time; the story Prometheus was Lex’s favorite story from Greek mythology.  The titan who was tied to a rock because he gave humans the secret to fire and Lex told that story so many times that Oliver could mouth the words in harmony.

Oliver puts his gloved hands to the keyboard.  Hoping that it’s the password, he types “Prometheus.”  He almost laughs in relief as the password grants him access.

As the home screen shows up, Oliver quickly starts going through the files.  Business, infrastructure, personnel files, project files, ghost projects…he tries “ghost project.”  Once again he starts running through the list.  He searches for anything that can lead him to anything resembling to project 33.1.  Lex is smart.  He wouldn’t have any files listed as “33.1.” 

Thinking of an alternative, plus realizing that he doesn’t have the time to rummage through all these files, he plugs SD card into the computer.  He selects all files and puts them into the SD card.  Thankfully, the total amount isn’t above the SD card’s capacity.  Now he just has to wait for it to finish downloading. 

That’s when he hears someone cocking a gun. 

Oliver raises his head and sees none other than Lex Luthor and he’s pointing a gun at his head.

Oliver clears his throat.  “Lovely evening, wouldn’t you say?” he asks in a guttural voice. 

Lex steps forward slowly.  “Show me your hands and step away from the computer,” he commands slowly. 

Oliver shrugs and raises his hands, with the backs of his hands facing Lex as he steps away from the computer, while keeping an eye on the download’s progress.  Lex blinks several times. 

“You didn’t say which side of my hands,” Oliver explains in that guttural voice.  The use of it is making his throat scratchy.  He makes a mental note to buy a voice changer at some point. 

“Didn’t anyone tell you, smartass?” Lex asks.  “Stealing is wrong.”

Oliver thinks for a minute.  “Oh, you mean the costume.  Yeah, do you want to be the Sheriff of Nottingham to my Robin Hood?  Or maybe you would prefer Guy of Gisborne?  And who do you suppose should take up the role of Maid Marian?”  What is he doing?  Here he is with a gun pointed at him and he’s trying to be silly?

“There’s a stain on your shirt,” he tries.

“Where?” he can’t believe Lex fell for that.  Using that momentary distraction as best he can, Oliver picks up a letter opener from the desk and throws it at Lex.  The sharp object lands in Lex’s hand and it causes him to lose his grip on the gun.  After ripping the letter opener from his hand, he lunges for the gun, but Oliver is already on him. 

The two tumble to the ground, and become tangled in a series of punches, kicks, and jabs.  Eventually, Oliver traps the Luthor spawn in a headlock.  “I might have been the one who brought a bow to a gunfight, but it looks like that gun was just making up for your lousy fighting skills,” he taunts.  He’s going to lose his voice if he keeps this up. 

“I’ve had martial arts training since I was six thank you very much,” Lex protests through gritted teeth.  “I don’t know who you are, but you have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

 _Back at ya, buddy_.  “Really?” marvels Oliver.  “And here I thought that I was dealing with a folically challenged loser who has marital problems.”  He’s been waiting months to say that.  After learning about Lex’s failed marriages, first being annulled after a week or two and the second marooning him on an island for a few months, it just added to the long list of things that Lex sucks at. 

The comment clearly strikes a chord with Lex and before Oliver can stop him, Lex bites him and he involuntarily lets go.  Okay, now he’s adding teeth to the fight.  Lex scrambles for the gun, but by that time, Oliver already has an arrow pointed at him.  

“Which martial arts instructor taught you the use of biting?” demands Oliver, keeping the arrow pointed at Lex’s head.  “You do realize I can have an arrow sticking out the other side of your head before you aim that gun at me, right?”

“What are you going to do?” sneers Lex.  “Kill me and make a murderer out of yourself?”

The word causes Oliver to stagger briefly.  He was prepared to kill Lex, but hearing the word plants a nasty image in his head.  What would his parents think of him?  What would his brother think of him?  To lose him and have him return five years later bitter, depressed…and a murderer?  How would Clark react when he learns that Oliver has killed before, even if it was to save the life of the woman he now calls his girlfriend?

The hesitation offers Lex enough time to grab the gun and aim it at Oliver.  Before he pulls the trigger however, the window behind the desk shatters inward.  Oliver shields his eyes from the glass flying everywhere.  When it stops, he peeks above his arm and his blood runs cold as his eyes fall upon his mentor, Diana.  Actually, Wonder Woman has come. 

“Wonder Woman?” asks Lex, rising to his feet.  “I’ve heard of you; listen this green arrow bandit has broken into my office and…”

A fist make powerful contact with his face, followed by a “ _SHUT UP_!” as he falls to the ground again, knocked out cold.  Panting heavily, Diana fixes eyes like daggers at Oliver.

He gulps.  “Hey, Aunt Di, how are you this evening?” he asks in a normal—albeit high-pitched—voice. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh it felt good writing this mostly lighthearted chapter. 
> 
> Oh and I hope people will stay tuned for it, eventually I’ll be writing a Clark Queen/Clark Kent retelling of the episode “Luthor.” It’ll share the same characterization that I’ve been developing, but it won’t be directly related to this story, nor will it have the same relationships, but it’ll mostly be meant to be a more rom-com take on the episode. 
> 
> What happens when Clark Kent and Clark Queen unwittingly swap places?


	23. Chapter Twenty-Two

_January 1 st, 2000_

_The years are now beginning with the number two.  My family does wish that we could have celebrated the start of this new millennium with Oliver.  I can only imagine how Ollie would have reacted to Clark learning to fly.  It wasn’t pretty and was quite messy, but Clark has managed to get a grip on his ability to fly.  I think part of what caused his initial struggle is his fear of flying._

_With some coaching from Jonathan and I we helped him realize that it’s not the same as if he were in a plane.  A way that Laura helped—which I think worked best—was she pointed to a broad-winged hawk that flew by the house.  She went on to explain that nothing is freer than a bird.  She encouraged Clark to envision himself as that bird.  Not being a winged creature, but something free without the confines of a cage, or even the ground itself.  She asked him if he wanted to be as free as a bird, or if he wanted to continue to be not flightless, but caged.  She identified the ground as his cage, a cage with a door that is constantly open.  Clark just has to be willing to allow himself to fly away._

_It wasn’t easy for him, but eventually Clark taught himself to fly.  It took a little longer to do so without running into things, but he is flying now.  Lately, he’s been testing himself to see how fast he can go.   In fact, a week ago he broke the sound barrier!  My adopted son from under another sun broke the sound barrier!  How long will it be before he outruns the SR-71, or any of NASA’s experimental aircraft?  In fact, a couple days ago, Clark joked that this new ability did not mean that he would be flying our luggage places.  Laura joked that we’ll see about that.  I’m sure Laura and I can come up with ways to bribe him, but it would probably be impractical._

_This past year has been perhaps the most difficult of my life.  I lost Oliver.  I succumbed to alcoholism briefly.  I don’t even know if Oliver still loved me when he disappeared.  I revealed my initial reasons for bringing Clark into our lives and Oliver looked betrayed to say the least.  Due to a drunken spiel, I had to explain to Clark his true origins, having not been from the planet Earth.  I didn’t dump everything on him though.  I felt that it might have been a little too much to reveal absolutely everything about his heritage.  In fact, Virgil has been recommending that Clark begin studying with him._

_I asked him to take a rain check on that.  I’m not sure Clark is ready for that just yet.  Perhaps,_ I’m _not ready for it just yet._

_Thanksgiving and Christmas were both very quiet.  As always, Martha invited us to the farm for Thanksgiving dinner, but it was hard to ignore the empty seat where Oliver would have been.  It was difficult not having his wry humor to counterattack the boring details of me being the head of a multi-billion-dollar company.  However, Clark invited Chloe and her father, Gabe, over so it was less melancholy than it could have been.  They got everyone talking, but Laura and I were mostly quiet, doing our best to suppress our grief.  Clark certainly shared our grief, but at least he had a friend and his godparents, the Kents, to help distract him at least._

_Then Christmas came along almost a week ago.  We exchanged presents, had a lovely dinner, and watched silly Christmas movies, such as_ How the Grinch Stole Christmas _and_ Home Alone. _I am quite certain that Kevin McCallister is something of a psychopath.  That or John Hughes has a grudge against adults._

_Maybe this upcoming year will be easier.  However, I am not sure that my family will ever stop hurting.  Not truly._

***

_France 1604_

_Isobel wished that Madeline would quit fiddling with that padlock.  It wasn’t going to come undone as the caged wagon continued to roll on.  The wagon was covered by a black sheet, but still the glow of torches could be seen through them.  The fate of Isobel and her friends was sealed now.  Nothing could change that._

_“It won’t open!” Madeline panicked.  At last she gave up and sat down next to Brianne._

_“We must escape before we reach the fields,” Brianne informed.  “Isobel?”_

_From under her red hood, Isobel rolls her eyes.  “They’ve taken the book and with it our powers.  What would you have me do?”  It was an awful limitation to her abilities.  She knew many spells, but without that book, she couldn’t pinpoint the proper spell to stage an escape attempt._

_Brianne and Madeline didn’t seem to see that._

_“Anything, we’re running out of time,” replied Brianne fearfully.  They were being taken to the fields to be burned for witchcraft.  Isobel herself was not in love with the idea, but her friends weren’t seeing the bigger picture._

_“Time is the one thing we_ do _have,” she argued.  Addressing her fear-stricken friends, she went on to say, “If we fall this night, I promise you we will rise again to finish our quest.”  Yes, one day they would complete their quest to find and unite the stones of power and with it, gain powers beyond their wildest dreams._

_Still her friends continued to whimper as they were about to face their fate.  The wagon came to a stop and the sheet was lifted.  Immediately, all the filth who have gathered to watch them perish began clamoring, shouting all sorts of curses and obscenities.  The executioner came forward and unlocked the chains to the cage.  As soon as it was opened, Madeline, then Brianne, and finally Isobel were dragged forcefully out of the wagon._

_As she stumbled along the path made of shoves, shouts and the brandishing of axes and farm tools, Isobel’s hood came down.  She snarled at the people.  Some of them actually trembled in fear.  They should fear her.  Whether it is a year, or a hundred years from now, one day she would return and their grandchildren’s grandchildren would tremble at her feet._

_As she neared the stake set atop the piles of wood that would be where she stood one last time, she stopped.  Turning, she came face to face with a man as he walked towards her._

_“Magistrate Wilkins,” she addressed.  “Come to enjoy your handiwork?”_

_The snide question earned her a backhanded slap across the face.  When she regained her footing, Magistrate Wilkins lifted a finger.  “Tell me the three stones of power, countess,” he commanded.  “You may yet escape the pyre’s flames.”_

_She suppressed a scoff.  It’s no different than when others before her have been offered to renounce their crimes.  It didn’t save them from the flames; it merely “saved their souls” as if the confession bettered their chance of redemption in the afterlife.  She wondered how their god would judge them when it came their turn.  Burning her kind and many more innocent women all in the name of God, but how did their god actually feel about it?  Did He really condone their cruelty?_

_Still, she answered, “My book.  There’s a page marked.”_

_The magistrate’s servant handed him the book.  He opened it to the page she spoke of.  He held it out to her.  “What means this?” he demanded._

_It was a ritual of transference.  The symbol would bind her soul and if her descendant would touch the symbol, she would be bound to them and live again._

_“It means the stones of power shall be mine,” she replied viciously.  The magistrate looked clearly frightened and she continued.  “And once I possess them, you shall tremble at my feet.  And never again persecute my kind.”  Then she bites her tongue until blood blooms under her teeth.  When her mouth fills with her own blood, she spits it onto the page, sealing the spell.  “_ Animam remitto.”  _The spell is complete and she feels a searing pain in her lower back that could only be the symbol marking her skin._

_The magistrate’s face contorts in a mixture of disgust and horror.  “Demon,” he sneered.  “Join your confederates.”_

_Isobel laughed as the executioner dragged her to the pyre.  Her fearful, squeamish friends continued to beg and plead for their lives.  God wasn’t going to save them.  Isobel only laughed as Magistrate Wilkins announced their crimes and their fate.  As the pyre was lit, she could only laugh._

_“You think this ends with a lick of flame?” she asked incredulously.  “I sleep but a while, and when the time is appointed my heir will awaken me and I will have vengeance!”  She could hear the pained moans of her friends at the flames began to lick at their feet, before they progressed to piercing screams.  Still, Isobel laughed.  As the flames burned, boiled and ate her skin, she laughed as her body ended in a bath of flame and burning flesh._

Lana wakes with a start, frantically rubbing at her skin.  When she realizes that she’s back in her apartment above the Talon, she relaxes somewhat.  She must have dosed off while she was studying as her homework and textbooks are still spread out in front of the couch.  The fire in the fireplace was still burning hot. 

She touches her skin again, checking for any burns.  It was only a dream, but she felt those flames.  She felt herself being burned alive.  What she also felt was power.  She felt that power when Isobel recited that spell.

 _The power excites you, doesn’t it?_ the voice asks.  _You cannot lie to me.  You desire that power.  You feel the power of your ancestors within you._

Lana stood up and walked over to the bathroom.  She stares at herself in the mirror.  In a flash, she sees a much darker version of herself.  Clad in a hideous amount of black and looking something like a combination of gothic and emo cultures.  Just as quickly, her reflection reverts back to normal.  For the first time ever, she addresses the voice in her head.

“If that’s how you envision yourself, you seriously need to think of something better to wear,” Lana says. 

Then, shockingly, her reflection smirks.  “Perhaps you’re right, Lana.  After all, you’re the one who has lived in this day and age.  You would be the better one to decide what to wear.” 

Lana nods briefly.  “You laughed through your own execution,” she says, thinking back to the dream.  “Didn’t you feel any pain?”

Her reflection is still smirking, but she sees a brief shudder.  “It’s a pain that no one should have to suffer.  I would move mountains if I could find the descendants of those who persecuted me and give them a small taste of what I went through.  But I wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of hearing me scream.”

Lana is really starting to feel like she’s losing her mind.  If the voice in her head was bad enough, this is just weird.  She’s talking to her own reflection and her reflection is responding with no input from her brain. 

“You’re not going crazy, dear Lana,” laughs her reflection.  “And tell me, the stones of power, do they not excite you?”

“How do I even know if they are real?” asks Lana skeptically.

“Oh, they are real,” her reflection responds quickly.  “Somewhere in this world, the three stones of power are hidden.  Just imagine the power that we would possess.  You have great power in you.  I have seen your thoughts, your woes, the weight of your losses...we could be a force to be reckoned with.  That spell book that you have been thinking of purchasing, it could unlock me.  I can show you all the things that you could do.  Tell me that doesn’t excite you.”

What Lana would like to do is dismiss all this as nonsense.  She would like to think that she’s still dreaming.  However, she can’t deny it. 

A part of her, a big part of her, is intrigued by such power. 

“Tell me more,” she requests.  Her reflection smiles wickedly.

***

Oliver really wishes that Diana would quit pacing.  The more she paces, the more thoughts of how she’s going to maim, torture, and kill him fill his mind.  He dares not speak.  She could rip his tongue out.  No doubt that she thinks him a thief right now.  Okay, he is a thief, but with good intentions! 

He loses it.  “Aunt Di, please let me…”

Diana quits pacing abruptly and kicks one of the chairs in front of Lex’s desk, sending it flying across the room.  “ _You insolent, reckless boy_!  _There I was, supporting you, making things easier for you as you put yourself in public and this what I get?  A hooded thief with a bow?  I ought to snap that bow that I had made for you in half_.”

Oliver gulps and grips his bow tighter.  He keeps his mouth shut.

“ _This is outrageous_!” Diana continues at the top of her lungs.  “ _This is insult to the traditions of the Ancient Greeks, a blasphemy even!  How can the gods be dismissed so casually?  How can some ignorant fool make such claims that the gods no more than a bunch powerful fools who let themselves be the subject of idol worship?”_

Why does Oliver get the feeling that she’s no longer talking about him?  He didn’t say anything about the gods.  He’s about to ask, but before he can comprehend what has happened, he finds himself wrapped in her lasso. 

“I will have told you the truth even with—ah,” his snarky comment is cut off as the lasso heats up. 

“I am only going to ask this once, Oliver,” she begins in English.  “What are you doing here and why are you stealing from this man?” 

“Okay, okay, weeks ago, I broke into my dad’s office in Queen Tower and I found a journal with a letter attached to it,” confesses Oliver.  The lasso heats up again and he adds, “I also found what I think is one of the stones of power.  I haven’t given it to Clark yet.  I’m not ready yet.”

That last part seems to provoke a look of sympathy from Diana.  It quickly passes as her face becomes stern again.  “What was in the letter?” she asks.

“It was pretty much a goodbye letter,” replies Oliver emotionally, remembering how he cried after reading it.  “It’s like he knew that he was about to die.  He was talking about something he found under the project name 33.1 and it was so bad that he dissolved his working relationship with Lionel Luthor.  It must have been bad enough that Lionel was willing to kill my dad in order to ensure his silence.  I had to find out whatever it was that he got himself into.”

Tears are streaming down his face now.  “That’s why I broke into this office.  That’s why I’ve been downloading all those files onto that SD card.  I was hoping that Lex’s computer would have some information pertaining to 33.1.  So could you please get this lasso off me?”

Diana’s expression remains unreadable for a minute or two as she and Oliver gaze into each other’s eyes.  For a minute, Oliver feels like he’s a kid again, looking at the woman who became very much like family to him.  Eventually, her face softens and she loosens the lasso.  When Oliver shakes himself free of the mystical rope, Diana surprises him with a hug. 

“ _I’m so sorry_ ,” she says tenderly in Ancient Greek.  “ _I shouldn’t be so hard on you, not when life has been bitterly unfair to you in these last few years._ ”

Oliver hugs her back.  “It’s okay,” he says in English.  “I’d probably be doing the same thing if I caught you stealing and didn’t know why.”

“I’m sure that I would have a very good reason,” Diana adds.  Her face turns thoughtful again. “You know what I could really use right now?”

Oliver raises his eyebrows expectantly. 

“A cheeseburger.”

Oliver lets out a startled laugh.  Diana releases him from the hug and allows him to grab the SD card.  Then, before he can protest, she grasps him and leaps out the shattered window.  He closes his eyes and holds on for dear life as she flies.  Eventually, he feels ground beneath him.  When he opens his eyes, he sees that she has brought them to what looks like a family owned burger joint. 

“Bob’s Burgers?” asks Oliver.  “I’ve heard of this place.”  In fact, people rave about how good Bob’s Burgers is.  Oliver looks down at himself.  “Shouldn’t we change?”

Diana looks up at him with a smirk.  “No; consider this your punishment.”

Ten minutes later, they find themselves standing in line to order.  They agreed to wait another time to discuss 33.1, or the stone of power that Oliver knows he’s going to have to give to Clark at some point.  Oliver is still contemplating what he would say even when he finds himself at the front of the line  He comes face to face with Bob himself.  Bushy mustache, balding spot in the back of his head and looking like he could seriously use a workout, the man stares at them quizzically. 

“Is there a superhero convention somewhere in town that I haven’t heard of?” he asks in a surly voice.

Olive feels that he could be a little more charming, maybe even a bit more enthusiastic?

“Yes, in fact,” Diana replies for them. 

“Your Wonder Woman costume is pretty good, though you look a little too tall,” Bob comments.  Oliver stifles a laugh and Diana elbows him, hard. 

“And what are you supposed to be?” Oliver realizes he’s the one being addressed.  “Robin Hood,” he replies dejectedly.

“Not bad,” Bob’s voice is so bland that Oliver can’t tell if it’s a genuine compliment.  “So what are you ordering?”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know why, but the Bob’s Burgers cameo just popped into my head. I’m sure the Belchers would have a great sales day if a couple of superheroes came into their burger joint.


	24. Chapter Twenty-Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's journal entry might mention a few things that some are uncomfortable with (including myself) so if topics like rape and child molestation bother people too much, then it's okay to just skip the entry. It does talk about an incident in which Clark was the hero though.

_February 29 th, 2000_

_Leap day!  It’s the head of my security detail’s birthday.  He’s only nine years old!  Or at least he’s only had nine official birthdays.  I gave the man the weekend off.  Lord knows that he’s more than earned it.  Plus, he’s a bit of a workaholic, so I had nearly had to file a restraining order against him just to get him to take the week off.  It was a bluff and we both knew it._

_Sometimes Lionel makes fun of me for being so generous to the people who work for me.  Trust is a more valuable tool than fear.  I try to build a level of trust and loyalty between myself and those who work directly for me.  I reward them for their triumphs and when they screw up I discipline them accordingly.  I also go out of my way to know my workers names and even the names of their significant others.  Just to be friendly, I even ask them how their families are doing once in a while._

_For example, the head of my security detail, Francis, his twin son and daughter just celebrated their seventh birthday about a month ago.  It’s really quite a miracle, because given their complicated births they weren’t expected to live for more than a couple of years.  With the proper medical care and no lack of faith, they not only lived to see their third birthday and each birthday after that, they are healthier than ever._

_It’s hard not to be jealous of him though.  He and his lovely wife still have both their children.  I can’t really say that.  Each time I find myself trying not to dwell on it, I find myself reverting back to a grieving father struggling to stay strong for the family that’s still with him._

_One thing did distract me from my pain recently.  It wasn’t necessarily a positive distraction._

_Clark punched someone.  It’s the first time that he’s lost his temper is such a way.  I’ve always feared what could happen if Clark assaulted someone.  The man is intensive care with nine broken ribs and a shattered disk in his spine.  As scared as I am that Clark punched someone, this was someone that I don’t feel bad for._

_I can’t remember his name and I honestly don’t care to remember, but the man was a serial child rapist who thought it okay to step his lecherous feet in Smallville.  There are only a handful of things more disgusting than child molesters, much less serial rapists who target children._

_Well this serial rapist set Chloe Sullivan in his sights.  To say that made things personal for Clark, as well as myself if I’ll be honest, would be a massive understatement.  Clark didn’t want to share all the details leading up to his punching the man, and I don’t blame him, but essentially the man grabbed Chloe while she was waiting for Clark to come out of the restroom and Clark found her not long after just as the man was about to…penetrate her._

_The man should consider himself lucky that Clark put him in the hospital before Gabe and I got to him.  I actually had to stop Gabe from making a murderer out of himself as he tried to cut off the man’s oxygen in the hospital room._

_I’m not sure exactly how Clark felt about what he did.  He seemed remorseful, scared even, that he did so much damage with what he called “a little punch.”  He was proud that he had saved his best friend from being raped.  As for Laura and I, we have been given an example of what could happen when Clark loses his temper, or more accurately what could happen when protecting those he cares about._

_Knowing Clark, I’m sure sometime in the following weeks, the guilt of doing what he did will weigh down on him.  For right now, he’s more concerned with comforting his best friend.  More than once I’ve seen her huddled up beside him on the couch in his loft in the garage._

_They are a little young to decide for themselves, but I think their feelings for each other might be blurring the lines between friendship and romance.  Clark’s in the seventh grade, he’s too young for a romantic relationship.  At the same time though, the idea of him and Chloe being romantically involved at some point in his life, at least for a time, puts a really nice image in my head._

_I won’t tell him that though._

It’s the State Championship game.  Everybody is counting on him.  His brothers were all football stars.  His sister was valedictorian.  Things like _He doesn’t have a lick of natural talent, but he’s got a truckload of heart_ reverberate through his ears painfully.  Those same words have haunted him all of high school and he has made a goal to change that.

Pete always liked to call himself “Ross the Boss” and he’s going to win this championship.  He’s going to prove his nickname isn’t just some grandiose overstatement. 

There’s seconds left in the game and all the Crows need is one touchdown to become winners.  Pete feels the weight of everyone’s eyes on him.  In some ways, they are worse than every intense workout or football practice.  If the Crows lose, it’ll be on him and at least two or three of his brothers will never let him hear the end of it. 

He stares into the eyes of the opposing quarterback, unblinking.  His breath comes out as a controlled huff and puff, but it does little to mask the growing sense of panic within him.  He can’t panic.  He needs to focus.  It’s no use if his state of mind causes him to tremble and fumble the snap.

He breaks his staring contest with the other quarterback and exchanges glances with his teammates.  Some are confident in him.  Some are daring him to screw up.  His eyes shift to the crowd and he quickly spots his friends Chloe, Clark, his brother Oliver, and even that Lois Lane chick. 

It’s all the vote of confidence he needs.  The ball is thrown and immediately everyone breaks formation.  He quickly shoves past the other players, narrowly escaping a tackle or two.  He reaches the end zone and turns around.  The ball is soaring towards him.  He lifts his hands, preparing to catch it.  All at once, the ball makes contact with his hands and one of the guys from the other team slams into him, knocking him to the ground.

He did not lose his grip on the ball.  When the other player is pulled off of him, everyone sees.  Immediately, Pete’s ears are met with the roar of cheering and before he can comprehend what’s happening, his teammates are surrounding him with head-butts, chest-bumps, one-armed hugs before finally they lift off his feet. 

The Crows are going home as champions.  Pete is going home as a winner and, for once, all his brothers will be with him at the same place at the same time when they all come home to celebrate.  Not only that, one of the recruiters who came to one of the previous games seemed really pleased with Pete.  The recruiter was vague, but Pete feels there’s a strong chance that he will be drafted for the Metropolis Bulldogs.  There is plenty to celebrate and plenty more to celebrate with, even if not all of them are home. 

In the meantime, Pete has plenty of people to celebrate with.

Lucifer Morningstar had given the team permission to use the Talon as the location for the team’s victory party.  He didn’t seem too eager.  The last time the team had an after-party at the Talon, the wide receiver had snuck liquor into some of the coffees.  Mr. Morningstar did not appreciate that.  He took the flask of liquor and kept it for himself.  Due to the incident, the wide receiver is still banned from the Talon.   

However, winning this state champion has the guy in such good spirits Pete doubts that he even cares about being banned from the place.  Soon, Pete’s friends run into him.

“Nice catch, Ross!” Oliver yells over the cacophony of the crowd.

To his surprise, Pete’s cheeks begin to heat up a little.  He doesn’t know Clark’s older brother too well, but he does seem like a nice guy.  Witty and justifiably depressed, but still a nice guy.  “I was worried about that one,” he admits.

“It’s a game,” Oliver says, rolling his eyes.  “I’ve told Clark this a few times, but it seems like people put way too much pressure on themselves when playing sports.  Did you have fun?”

Pete thinks that he hears an unfinished portion to that question, the part where he would have asked if losing would have meant that he _didn’t_ have fun.  In this whole football season, the Crows only lost one game.  It was one of their earlier games and Pete felt responsible.  After riding the bench most of high school, he was suddenly playing and his teammates’ unwelcoming attitudes to a degree made for a lack of communication on the field.  So yeah, maybe winning does play a role in how much fun Pete has had.  The “fun” games are the ones that you just play with your friends when no one is counting on you.  This was one of those games where _everyone_ is counting on you, so the pressure to win, or at least do your best, outweighs the desire to have a good time. 

“Yeah I had fun,” he finally replies.

“So are you going to play for MetU?” asks Clark.

“I don’t know yet,” Pete replies honestly.  “When I know, you’ll know.”

“You think you could do an interview?” Pete turns his attention to Chloe.  It feels like a long time ago that Pete would have felt glad that she and Clark were no longer romantically involved.  He’s over his crush for her.  Nowadays, he just hopes she finds someone special.  Still, she looks pretty in her blazer and low-cut top. 

“Meet me at the Talon tomorrow,” he says with a wink. 

“Awesome!” exclaims Chloe gleefully.  “Let’s all go to the Talon now.”

Upon her suggestion, everyone begins to disperse.  Out of all of them, Pete feels that Lois is the one he will be talking to the most.  Clark enjoys sports, but his enthusiasm is severely outshone by Lois’.  He and Lois have spent hours arguing over who’s the better professional and college teams, better quarterbacks, better coaches…just about everything except for which team has the hottest cheerleading squad.

Lois and Chloe seem to have a personal vendetta against cheerleaders.  Regardless of how good their routines are, both seem to feel that cheerleaders go against all their feministic standards.  They feel that cheerleading is exploitive and that it objectifies women.  Pete hasn’t really developed an opinion on the matter, but having been caught staring at the cheerleaders by Lois, Chloe, and Clark it seems case in point as far as they are concerned. 

Pete is just about to head to the locker room to get out of his football gear and shower when something catches his eye.  Sitting all alone on the bleachers is Lana.  She doesn’t look too good.  Feeling concerned for his friend—and maybe just a little bit chivalrous—he doubles back and heads up the stairs. 

The last time he approached her, it turned out that he was under the influence of a love potion or cupid drug, something that seemed more _Harry Potter_ than Smallville.  This time he isn’t under the influence of anything; he’s just trying his best to stand up straight and be gentle.  As he gets closer, he sees that her eyes look a little red, as if she had been crying. 

She notices him before he can announce himself. 

“Great game, Pete,” she compliments. 

“Aw thanks,” says Pete, showing a little too much swagger before he can stop himself.  He clears his throat.  “Sorry, um, are you okay?”

Lana looks up at him briefly and the sadness in her eyes reminds him all too much of that version of Lana that he knew growing up.  The underlying sadness, even loneliness, that always seemed to bleed through no matter how privileged she was.  He knows that some see her a bit snobbish, even having a little too much of a “woe-is-me” attitude, but Pete feels that he can understand.  He didn’t watch his parents die, but he did see how the aftermath of the meteor shower from all those years ago affected their lives.  To some degree, he feels that he can relate to Lana. 

She shakes her head and stares out into the open again. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” asks Pete, gently.

Lana shakes her head again. 

“Do you want to be alone?”

A minute passes before she shakes her head again.  Pete takes a seat next to her, keeping a respectable distance between them.  For the most part, he keeps his eyes forward, surveying the emptying field.  He takes no small pleasure in watching the last few members of the visiting team walk off the field with their heads bowed.  At least his team isn’t the one that’s going to get screamed at by the coach. 

He takes a brief glance at Lana and sees her twitching a little.  What’s got her so skittish?  Plus, he thinks he hears a small “Shut up” escape her lips.  He didn’t say anything.  Is Lana hearing things or is she just talking to herself?

“Lana…” Pete begins, but she rounds on him.  For a minute, he tenses up expecting a scowl or a slap, but instead he only receives a mournful gaze. 

“Pete, have you ever been involved with someone?” she asks.  Before he can answer, she asks, “Have you ever had a loving relationship with someone who did something really stupid?  Something that complicated your relationship to the point that you had to be careful where and when you could do something as simple as holding hands?  Something that someone else found out about and you two ended up breaking up with each other with a lousy ‘I think it’s best if we stop seeing each other’?”

Her voice breaks as she goes through her tirade and all Pete does is keep quiet and listen.  Even when she stops long enough for him to answer, he can’t find the words.  He just shakes his head. 

Lana echoes his nonverbal gesture and sighs heavily.  Then she turns away from him again as her eyes well up with tears. 

“You were dating someone?” asks Pete.  “I didn’t know that.”

Lana laughs, but it sounds more like a choke.  “That was the point.”

“And _he_ broke up with _you_?  Is he stupid or something?” 

Lana whips her head around and locks eyes with Pete in a frown. 

Pete gulps.  “I’m sorry, but it just seems that only an idiot would be dumb enough to break up with you.” 

The frown stays on Lana’s face for some time.  No words pass between them as the once loud football field becomes eerily quiet.  Eventually a small smile escapes her lips.  “You’re sweet.”

Pete tries not to frown.  She pulled the “you’re sweet” card on him.  It’s the words that every guy dreads when they are trying to approach a lady.  His mother always reminds him that it’s better than being called a pig or getting slapped in the face.  Still, it seems like an offhanded reward for his efforts. 

“I try to be,” he says evenly.

Lana studies him for a few minutes.  “Weeks ago, you asked me out for coffee.  I know that you were under the influence of that silly love molecule, but…” her expression becomes a little nervous, “does that offer still stand?”

Pete beams at her.  “Would you rather share a pizza and go bowling?  You look like you could use some time away from everyone anyway.”

Lana mirrors his beaming smile.  “I’d like that a lot…after you’ve changed out of your football gear and did something about that smell.”

Pete tries to hide his blush, but Lana is already giggling. 

***

Clark tries calling Pete for the fifth time.  “Where are you, Pete?”  Finally, just when he’s about to go back to the school to see what’s holding up his friend, he gets a text message.

**Rain check on the celebration?  I’m doing something else tonight.**

Clark frowns.  Whatever could that _something else_ be?

“Where’s Pete?” asks Chloe. 

Clark turns around and accepts the coffee that his best friend brought him.  “It looks like he’s got other plans.”

Chloe spits out her sip of coffee.  “What?  Are you kidding me?” 

“My reaction exactly,” Clark mutters. 

“And Martha Kent made this delicious-looking cake just for this celebration.”

Clark turns around and grips Chloe’s shoulders affectionately.  “Then let’s not let it go to waste.  If Pete’s not here, then it just means more for us.”  He winks down at her. 

Chloe smiles up at him, her green eyes twinkling deviously.  He still loves her very much, but with each passing week it’s become easier avoiding the temptation to kiss her, or stroke that triangle of freckles on her left cheek.  “It is becoming more difficult to resist cutting into that cake.”

Clark frowns playfully.  “Please don’t do it yourself; you suck at cutting cakes.”

She glares briefly, but soon she’s nodding her agreement.  “I’ll see if your friend Diana is willing to.” 

Clark could tell her that Diana is even worse, but then he suspects that seeing Diana ruin that cake would make his best friend feel better about her own lousy cutting skills.  “You do that, Chlo.  Right now, I just need some fresh air.”

Chloe nods understandingly and Clark watches for a minute as she walks over to Diana.  After watching the two of them speak to each other for a little bit, he turns around and heads outside.  He enjoys the crisp autumn air as he breathes it in. 

“Crowd too much for you too?” Clark turns sharply to find Lois…with a cigarette.  Before he can stop himself, he reaches out and yanks the cancer stick out of her mouth, douses it on the nearby parking meter, and tosses it into the closest trashcan.

“Non-smoking policies too restricted for you?” he fires back. 

Lois scowls up at him.  “You’re not the boss of me.”

Clark nods his agreement, but his disapproval doesn’t leave his face. 

Lois rolls her eyes.  “So I might be lapsing back into my addiction; sue me.”

Clark smiles deviously.  “I’m sure I can arrange that.  I get the feeling you would look pretty good in orange.”

His comment has the desired effect…or maybe too much of it.  Lois slaps him. 

“Ow!” she shouts, massaging her bruised hand.  “Seriously, Smallville what are you made out of?” 

“Skin, flesh, bone, and about sixty percent of water,” replies Clark. 

“Ha-ha, biology boy,” Lois sneers.  “One of these days someone is going to hit you hard enough that it will hurt.”

Clark fights back a shudder.  People already have given the right tools.  If Lois finds out his secret, he hopes it doesn’t come from someone else.  He also hopes that she won’t use that knowledge to cause him harm.  “My parents’ plane crash was a pretty hard punch,” he says quietly, looking out towards the street.  He means that literally, in more ways than most people know, but Lois hasn’t earned that level of trust yet.

“I’m sorry,” says Lois, sounding strangely compassionate.  “What were your parents like?”

Clark turns to face her.

“I mean, sure I might have read about your parents in the obituaries and the tabloids, but I haven’t heard what you or Oliver have had to say about them,” Lois elaborates.  “Oliver won’t talk about them.”

Clark studies her thoughtfully.  “For someone who has said several times that she has no interest in journalism, even if you are taking classes, you sure do ask questions like a journalist.  I’ll talk to you about my parents, but first let me ask you this:  why aren’t you interested in pursuing journalism?”

As soon as the question is out of his mouth, Clark sees something he hasn’t seen before.  Lois actually looks uncomfortable, embarrassed even. 

“I am interested in journalism,” she corrects him quietly. 

“So why make use of your journalism classes?” asks Clark.

Lois starts walking and Clark catches up to walk alongside her.  “I’ve seen what digging into people’s lives can do to people.  For a whole summer, I thought my cousin was dead because she poked the wrong man.  She won’t tell me what it was she dug up about you, but I know that it nearly ruined your relationship with her freshman year.  You and I both know that she’s improved, but I really don’t want to go through something like that.  I don’t want to risk ruining my relationships because of my journalist curiosity.  Nor do I want to end up being some sort of ‘reporter trash’ because I appeared insensitive to others’ feelings when hunting down a story.”

Clark listens carefully as she speaks.  When he finds an opening, he says, “Have you stopped to consider that you can choose what stories you hunt down and who you pressure for interviews?”

Lois stops and frowns up at him. 

“Have you considered the fact that you don’t have to hunt down a story just because it’s out there?” Clark clarifies.  “You could be like Chloe and look for corruption.  You could expose people who are perceived to be bad.  It also means that you can correct people’s thoughts if it turns out those people weren’t bad to begin with, that they were just victims of bad press.”

A smile slowly spreads across Lois’ face as he fills her with his suggestions. 

“And you could even join Chloe when she gets her dream job at the Daily Planet.  You two could even end up sharing a column.”

“And what would that column be?” asks Lois skeptically.

Clark thinks for a minute.  “Sullivan & Lane, or just Sullivan Lane.”

Lois blinks several times. 

Clark shrugs.  “It rolls off the tongue better than ‘Lane Sullivan’.”

“You make my cousin and I sound like a street name,” Lois fires back.  “You dance, you play the piano, you have a passion for archery and knives…and you are woefully uncreative.”

Clark smirks.  “So, _you_ sue _me_.”

Lois scoffs.  “I don’t think I could afford it; I’ll just play ‘judge, jury, and executioner’.  But I’ll keep that in mind.  Now I’m going back inside and I’m going to have some cake.”

Clark doesn’t move for a minute as he watches Lois walk back to the Talon.  He watches as her half-up/half-down hairdo swishes from side to side as she walks.  She’s more slender than she is curvy, so there isn’t as much of a swing to her hips as with Chloe’s.  Still, for some reason, in the last five minutes, Lois Lane became oddly beautiful.

Why does that feel like such a betrayal to his ex-girlfriend?  The same woman who he still cares deeply—though currently platonically—about?


	25. Chapter Twenty-Four

_March 14 th, 2000_

_Lionel and I had a bit of an argument a few days ago.  Our joint operation is not without its difficulties.  Using the meteor rocks, the operation has been making breakthroughs in medical research.  Using them, our liaisons at Summerholt Institute have managed to cure a few diseases that were otherwise incurable.  At least, they have been able to cure the first stage or two of some diseases.  It seems that not even the meteor rocks can provide the cure for cancer.  It could also be from the inefficiency of today’s technology._

_Who know, maybe in ten, twenty years it will become a lot easier to provide better medical treatment for people._

_However, medical research, free clinics, and building homes for orphans, there is the side that I am most reluctant about.  About six months ago, my reluctance to start incorporating meteor rocks into our weapons development programs was overruled.  I didn’t want to, but Lionel Luthor is a talented orator when he wants to be and he knows how to steer people into seeing things his way._

_I caved, but not without a catch.  All weapons proposals would be run by me and I would make a final decision to put prototypes into production.  Being capable of steering people towards my way of thinking myself, I was able to get the majority of them to agree to that.  Lionel Luthor and I are two men who don’t like it when things don’t go our way.  It’s an egotistical quality that I freely admit to.  Laura and my best friend, Jonathan Kent both agree that Lionel and I build off of each other in a rather toxic way._

_I’m not sure if we make for an entertaining set of “toxic twins” like Steven Tyler and Joe Perry.  In one of our most pathetic arguments, Lionel and I found ourselves arguing about whether Aerosmith or the Rolling Stones were better.  It wasn’t even a friendly conversation like when Jonathan and I argue about sports.  I’m more of an Olympics guy and Jonathan is a football buff._

_Some days I just want to sneak up behind Lionel with a pair of scissors and cut off his long hair.  Clark once suggested that I drug him and have him wake up with his hair actually brushed and maybe even decorated.  It’s a funny thought, but the repercussions aren’t worth it._

_So the thing that caused the argument between Lionel and I was a new form of bullets.  The samples demonstrated were for a basic nine-millimeter handgun.  They were tipped with bits of green meteor rock the size of peas.  Even if they were that small, put into a gun, they had twice the destructive power of your average nine-millimeter.  I didn’t approve the weapon.  In the years passed, I’ve learned to not let my love for Clark, as well as my need to protect him, rule my judgment.  However, I don’t like the idea of a company I’m involved in mass-producing bullets that can pierce my son’s skin._

_I lost one son; I’m not going to lose another one.  Of course, I had to invent a reason why I didn’t feel comfortable with this gun.  The reason I gave was not giving the general public that kind of destructive power in a concealed weapon.  It might have just been a ballistics dummy, but just one of those bullets can obliterate a person’s head from twenty feet away the same way a shotgun can at point black range.  If a bullet like that can do that to a regular human being, who’s to say it wouldn’t have the same effect on my son?_

_Lionel conceded, but still he wanted to at least sell it to our military.  I didn’t agree to that either.  Giving our military such power, how long will it before the enemy captures a soldier and their bullets and reverse engineer them?_

_Lionel cleverly asked me how people could possibly get their hands on green meteor rock when, as far as we know, it’s concentrated in the heart of Kansas.  I reminded him that we have discovered and shut down black market trades with hoards of meteor rock.  We even set up our own—and perhaps not entirely legal—system of combatting the black market._

_Lionel Luthor doesn’t beg; he demands.  When he doesn’t get what he wants, he reduces to a cantankerous teenager whose greatest weapon is blackmail.  I’m pretty good at employing blackmail as well.  It was a long argument.  It was like a game of chess.  No, it wasn’t convoluted enough.  It was more of a slap fight of threats.  Lionel dipped down low when he suggested that the disappearance of Oliver was clouding my judgment, making a weak businessman out of me.  I could have told him that the death of his own infant son, Julian, made him too ruthless.  He’s more concerned with building his empire that he neglects Lex._

_We have very different ideas of how a parent should behave and how they raise their children.  I believe that love, compassion, and no small amount of discipline in all the right places are essential to raising children.  Based on all my observations, Lionel isn’t that kind of person.  I remember a time I saw Lex showing his father his report card.  It was outstanding to say the least, but Lionel criticized him for not being involved in too many activities. Life isn’t exactly easy for the boy.  In his words, his father has never said “I love you” and he’s a bit of an outcast._

_Back on track, I won the argument.  Meteor rock bullets are not worth it.  Plus the cost of excavating meteor rock, refining it, not to mention the ever-rising health concerns, are all problems.  We are already up to our necks in paperwork and rising debt, so we have to monitor where and how we use the meteor rocks._

_Lionel thinks I am way too economic.  Maybe I am, but I’m also a protective father._

_Now I’m going to close this entry; Clark made chicken kebabs all by himself and they smell very good.  I would never say this to Martha, but Clark’s skills are becoming good enough that he could rival her.  I’m not sure anyone would agree, but I would love to see how they would react to me voicing it._

_Jonathan might ban me from his farm._

 

Lana is so excited.  Her package finally arrived.  She feels a little guilty about emptying her saving to acquire it, but the voice in her head convinced her that it was worth it.  She hopes that she’s right.

Mr. Morningstar brought the package up to her and he told her that something about the box worried him.  Despite the warning in her head, she told him that it was just a silly spell book.  What’s so unnerving about a spell book?  Smallville has proven quite a few things to be real, but witchcraft?  That’s pushing it.  Those thoughts have earned her some harsh criticism.

Sure, she was very excited when her reflection—or Isobel herself it turned out—started talking about all the things she could do if she would just access the power she was born to have.  Isobel didn’t share her enthusiasm when she said she would feel like Harry Potter.

Of course, Isobel had no idea who he was, so Lana pretty much gave her an oral book report on the _Harry Potter_ books.  Isobel wasn’t as impressed as Lana thought she would be.  She did find amusement in the term _Muggle_.

Still, it is hard for her not to be unnerved by Isobel taking up residence in her head.  Lana had to learn how to go day by day without responding to the thoughts that she knew were not her own.  Not only that, but somewhere along the line it’s become harder to distinguish which thoughts are her own from the ones belonging to Isobel.  Some days, she wishes that she had never touched Isobel’s tomb.  It would make things a whole lot easier.

Since her thoughts are not private with Isobel in her head, Isobel criticized those thoughts.  She has no reservations about calling her a whiny brat.  According to her, she has so much potential and she’s wasting it.  In turn, Lana takes plenty of opportunities teasing Isobel about all the differences in the last four hundred years.  She also seems to have access to some of Isobel’s memories occasionally and Lana takes the opportunity to call her on some of her more obvious mistakes. 

It’s led to some strange arguments in front of the mirror. 

Right now, Lana is in the middle of opening the package with a pair of scissors when she hears a knock at her door. 

 _What does your landlord want now?_ Isobel’s voice asks. 

Lana doesn’t answer as she gets up and goes over to the door.  She opens it and finds herself wishing it was Mr. Morningstar. 

“Jason,” she acknowledges coldly.  “What are you doing here?”

Jason’s shoulders rise and fall, looking like he’s contemplating what to say.  “Can we talk?”

“I don’t know, can we?” Lana fires back.  “You’re the one who said that it was best if we stopped seeing each other.”  _And from what I’ve seen, it seemed a wise decision_ , Isobel’s voice told her. 

“I know I did and I’m sorry,” Jason stutters out.  “But you see, my mother’s coming into town and I don’t feel comfortable visiting her alone.”

Lana almost feels sympathetic.  After everything Jason has told her about his mother, she’s seems like a bit of a handful. 

“Please, may I just come in?”

Lana rolls her eyes and steps aside.  “I can’t have you over for too long.  I have a date.”  That’s only half-true.  Pete invited her as his date to Chloe’s birthday party tomorrow night.  There was something that Lana didn’t see coming.

Pete spends a summer in Wichita and comes home more ripped and with more confidence.  He always seemed to be jealous of Clark for some reason, but he seemed surer of himself.  Lana would never have expected to be invited out for bowling with him.  Still, she found herself having a good time with him.  Her bowling skills suck and things got a little tense—and in a surprising good way—when Pete took hold of her arms and guided her movements as she threw the bowling ball.  The evening didn’t end with a kiss, but it did leave her enjoying the one-on-one company with him.

Isobel was skeptical of him at first.  Through her thoughts, Lana informed Isobel that times have changed.  Isobel thought that Pete had been _emancipated_.  Lana informed her that officially slavery in France was abolished in 1794 following the French Revolution, but didn’t truly end until 1848.  Still, Isobel didn’t seem terribly confortable with Lana’s budding interracial relationship.  Lana stood up for herself and told Isobel to get used to it.  She’s nowhere near ready to call anyone her boyfriend yet, but she has been enjoying Pete’s company in the last week or so.

“What’s that?” asks Jason. 

Lana follows his gaze and they fall upon the half-opened package.  Instead of answering, she goes over to it and finishes opening the package.  She throws aside the flaps and carefully pulls out the spell book. 

“This is a spell book,” says Lana, replying to Jason’s question.  “It belonged to an ancestor of mine, Countess Margaret Isobel Theroux.  She was burned at the stake as a witch.”  _Do you have to bring it up?_   “I found it on eBay.”

“EBay?” repeats Jason as the two of them go to sit on the carpet in front of the fireplace. 

“Yeah, some old guy was auctioning it off,” explains Lana, feeling excited.  “I had to max out my entire credit card to get it, but I couldn’t resist.  It was like it was calling to me.”  _Or rather the voice of your ancestor compelling to you to get your hands on it by whatever means necessary_ , snorts Isobel’s voice.

Jason gives the old blood-red leather-bound book with crispy pages a cryptic look as he sits down.  As Lana holds it out for him to look, his eyes light up as if an epiphany hit him.  “Those look like the same symbols from the cave,” he observes.

 _Cave, what cave?_ Isobel’s voice demands.  _It would seem that my spells and this farmers’ town so far from my home are more connected than I gave it credit for._

“Yeah,” agrees Lana, answering both Jason and her ancestor without meaning to.  “Maybe it will help explain what happened in Paris when I touched Isobel’s tomb.”  _Did I not explain that to you days ago?_

Jason gives Lana’s comment a considerate look.  “And the tattoo and the missing twelve hours?” 

 _I don’t like this young man_ , mutters Isobel’s voice. 

Other than breaking up with her, Lana could argue that he’s actually quite sweet.  Still, she hardly pays attention to anyone as she begins sifting through the pages delicately.  Aside from the detailed illustrations, the text is all in Latin.

“So uh, how’s your Latin?” she asks curiously.  _It’s quite fluent actually_.

Jason smirks.  “About as good as my Italian, which I do not speak.”

Lana glances up at him briefly, her expression mirroring Isobel’s annoyance.  Returning to the book, she keeps flipping through the pages until something catches her eye.  It’s a discoloration from what looks like a bloodstain.  At the same time that she lands on the page, a chill sweeps through the small apartment and the flame in the fireplace goes out. 

Jason rolls his eyes.  “I’ll get that.”

Lana hardly hears him.  The symbol underneath the bloodstain, it’s the same as is on her back.  “Oh, my God,” she whispers.  _Now you know that I am not just full of nonsense_ , says Isobel’s voice.  “This is the same symbol as is on Isobel’s tomb.”

“Really?” gapes Jason as he grabs the lighter.  “That’s kind of spooky.”

Lana can’t help but agree with him.  Tentatively, her hand hovers over the page until her hand settles on the symbol.  Immediately, the symbol begins to glow and she feels the symbol on her back burn searing hot.  She can’t fully comprehend all that happens next as the fireplace roars back to life, sending Jason backward.  Also, she has the strangest feeling.  She feels like she’s sinking.  She still feels and sees all of her surroundings, but it’s as if she’s not…present. 

Of no command of her own, she rises to her feet as Jason does the same.

“Are you okay?” he asks. 

Lana feels herself observing her own body with wonder.  “Never been better,” she replies.  Was it her?  She didn’t insinuate that thought.  Those were not her words.  She tries to say that she has no idea what the hell is going on, but her lips don’t move.  Nothing happens as she continues to meet Jason’s eyes.

Thunder continues to rumble outside, illuminating the apartment with brief flashes of blue. 

“Good, well I don’t want to overstay my welcome, so I’m going to leave,” says Jason.

“Of course,” responds… _not_ -Lana.  Not that Lana wants Jason to stay, but she doesn’t understand what’s going on either.  She leads Jason towards the door and opens it for him.  As Jason steps out, he turns back slightly.

“I am sorry that things got too complicated between us,” he apologizes, sounding close to tears. 

Lana feels herself smiling in a very un-Lana-like way.  “Don’t be; you were just concerned about your job.  Have a good night.”  Without another word, she closes the door.  Lana feels herself reaching at nothing, desperately seeking control as her body goes to the bathroom to stand in front of the mirror.  When she sees her reflection, a cruel smile is spread across her lips. 

“Oh, Lana, please stop fighting around.”

Isobel.  _Isobel_ is smiling at her.  “I am quite grateful to you, Lana.  I hope you can understand that.  However, I’ll be in control now.”

Lana quits thrashing about and crosses her arms, even as her reflection does nothing.  “And you expect to just prance around Smallville dressed as me?”

Isobel frowns as she cocks her head.  “No, sweetheart.  I’ll have you to guide me when I hit a bump or two.  For starters, I would like you to lead me to that cave you mentioned.”

Lana scoffs.  “We have my best friend’s birthday party to prepare for; you know that.”

Isobel rolls her eyes.  “I don’t have time to indulge in some adolescent girl’s birthday celebration.”

Lana raises her eyebrows.  “What’s your hurry?  Did four hundred years in the grave make you impatient?  I would have thought it was the other way around.”

A scowl spreads across Isobel’s face and Lana throws her head back as pain shoots through her body.  That pain can only be fire.  “Yes, Lana, you feel that?  That is what I went through all those years ago.  So yes, I’ve waited too long for this.  The stones of power will be mine and if this cave has answers for me, I will not waste any more time.”

Lana barely listens as her whole body feels like it’s combusting around her.  She can even smell her own burning flesh.  Then, just as quickly as it came, it stops. 

“I don’t want to hurt you, Lana,” croons Isobel.  “However, you fail to obey me, I will make you suffer.  I’ll even let you enjoy your time with that runaway slave of a boy, Pete.”

Lana thoughts darken with fury and she makes sure that Isobel is away.  She must as she throws her head back and laughs a cruel, cackling sound that could put the _Wizard of Oz_ to shame.  It’s not a laugh Lana would ever use, even if she dressed as a witch for Halloween. 

Isobel stops laughing abruptly and cocks her head. 

“What now?” Lana spits.

Isobel smiles deviously.  Your friend has a cousin, doesn’t she?  I believe they will be perfect.”

“Perfect for what?” shrieks Lana, concerned for her friends.  What could Isobel possibly want with Lois and Chloe? 

“You’ll see, darling.” 

Before Lana can press her for more answers, there’s a knock on the door again.  Isobel’s devious smile disappears and she storms out of the bathroom towards the door.  She yanks it open.  “What!” she snaps.

 _That’s my landlord, you idiot_ , Lana thinks as she— _Isobel_ —comes face to face with Mr. Morningstar.

Mr. Morningstar throws up his hands in surrender.  “Dearie me!” he exclaims with a nervous laugh.  “A few minutes ago, while I was closing up shop the whole place dropped a solid ten degrees.  I was coming up to check on you.  Is everything all right?”

Knowing how crazy Isobel seems to be about her landlord for reasons Lana feels are preposterous, Isobel smiles up at the Welshman.  “Everything is fine, Lucifer.”

Mr. Morningstar gapes at her.  “Has my request for you to stop calling me ‘Mr. Morningstar’ finally gotten through your thick skull?”

Isobel laughs shortly.  “Let’s just say that I’ve had a…shift in gears?” 

Mr. Morningstar raises an eyebrow.  Eventually, he shrugs.  “As long as you are all right, I guess.  Well, I better head home now before my daughters try to kill me.  Have a lovely night.”  He turns on his heel and Lana rolls her eyes as Isobel’s eyes linger on her landlord’s finely shaped ass. 

 _Planning on getting in bed with the devil?_ Lana mocks. 

“Actually, that sounds like a lovely idea,” says Isobel thoughtfully.  “Not to mention, I would love to get a closer look at his children.”

 _Oh, for crying out loud…_ Lana groans.  Mr. Morningstar’s children are quite pretty, but what interest would Isobel have in them?  Why is she so convinced he’s the devil?  What is she planning to do with Lois and Chloe?

All she cares about right now is getting back in control of her body.  How is she going to warn everybody?  And she sure isn’t thrilled with whatever Isobel has in store for Smallville.   


	26. Chapter Twenty-Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my fellow Lucifer lovers. We’re all going to hell. Not to get too religious, but maybe God likes the show. Anyway, enjoy.

_Lucifer’s dimension,_

_December 31 st, 2019_

_“Detective, I really don’t see why this silly blindfold is necessary,” Lucifer laughed as the lovely senior detective led him on.  She wouldn’t even let him see what she was she was wearing!  She just told him as soon as he entered her house to take off his Paul Smith tie and wrap it around his head, covering his eyes.  To make things more annoying, Maze and Trixie laughed the whole time._

_He has all the powers of an angel, but he cannot see through things.  So he had no idea where the detective was taking him as he felt her steer him to her car and across town.  He might say it later just to get her flustered, but by the smell and the general feel of his surroundings, he knows they are at Lux.  Why did she bring him to his nightclub?  The same nightclub that, given how his girlfriend’s daughter has grown on him—or rather put a spell on him, he insists—he introduced a monthly kids’ night a year ago._

_For some reason, he let the detective talk him into closing the club for New Year’s Eve.  It strange, because in the past he had thrown lavish New Year’s Eve parties, one of which he held for the L.A.P.D.  It might also have been the first enjoyable New Year’s Eve that Cain, or Lieutenant Marcus Pierce had in a very long time._

_Finally, the detective brought him to a stop._

_“Okay, now can I take this blindfold off?”_

_“I don’t know; can you?” the detective fired back._

_Lucifer grumbled.  The devil did not like being messed with.  At least that was true, until she came along.  After getting under her skin so much, it was only a matter of time before_ she _got under_ his _skin._

 _“_ May _I take off this blindfold?” he corrects himself.  She better not get him to start sounding submissive.  He has enough of letting her be the aggressor in bed.  As she put it, after eons and eons of being in charge, it was about time that someone else be in charge of him.  He’s quite certain that the list of men she’s slept with is quite small, not including her ex-husband, but her talents in bed ought to say otherwise._

_He heard the detective smack her lips thoughtfully.  “Mm, you’ve been a good devil,” she knows that talking to him like a puppy gets him flustered.  “You may take off the blindfold.”_

_“Thank you.”  Lucifer removed the blindfold and had to blink back at the sudden brightness.  Not that Lux was brightly lit, but he did spend the better part of a half hour wearing a tie over his eyes.  “Alright, Detective, care to tell me why we are here instead of waiting for the countdown with Maze and that ‘Detective Lucikeen Mazingstar’ as that silly daughter of yours dubbed herself.”_

_“Aw, come on, Lucifer,” the detective grumbled.  “You have to admit, Trixie looked adorable in that little purple and black suit.”_

_“It might have been better if you just let her have the airsoft pistol I got her for Christmas,” Lucifer pointed out._

_The detective rolled her eyes.  “I’ve told you—my daughter is not having toy guns!”_

_“A bit ironic when her mother carries a gun.”  The comment had the desired effect as the detective grumbled and slumped down on the bench in front of the piano.  He’s also learned to be careful about when and how he executes that statement.  He knows that she’s very sensitive of the subject, and he came to care about her feelings a long time ago.  She’s beautifully passionate and driven when it comes to her job, but family comes first._

_In fact, he remembers an instant when she was placed on modified assignment because she chose to protect her daughter rather than stop a robbery while off-duty.  It resulted in the shopkeeper getting killed and the papers branding her a coward.  The only people who seemed willing to put themselves in her shoes were her ex-husband as well as her commanding officer._

_“So, moving on, will you answer my previous question please?” the devil requested._

_The detective looked grateful for the change in subject.  A reminiscent smile spread across her face as she stood up and began walking around.  “Do you remember when we first met?” she asked._

_An equally reminiscent smile spread across Lucifer’s face as he went behind the bar to fix them a couple of drinks.  “How can I forget?” he answered softly.  “I was playing the piano and you were trying to question me about the circumstances of Delilah’s death.  So tragic, it was.”_

_The detective laughed as she haltingly played a variation of “O, Holy Night” on the piano that he showed her.  That little brother of his gets a lot more credit than he deserves—something that Amenadiel once confided that many an angel were jealous of—but there are some beautiful songs written in his name._

_“I hated you,” the detective laughed._

_“Why thank you,” Lucifer said in earnest as he brought them their drinks.  “You asked me how many M’s there were in ‘immortal’.  You told me I must have some really big balls.”_

_The detective smiled wickedly.  “Thanks to my ‘expert detective skills’ as you put it I know firsthand that they are indeed quite average.  Luci Jr. is even_ more _average bordering on_ below _average.”_

_Lucifer was in the middle of sipping his glass of wine and he choked.  As he caught his breath, he stared down at himself.  “Below average?” he repeats, scandalized._

_The detective shrugged.  “I can fit all of it into my mouth, so it must be even less impressive than you give it credit for.”_

_Lucifer looked up and he could see the corners of her mouth itching upward.  His features melted into a scowl.  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”_

_The detective couldn’t seem to hold back her laughter anymore.  She planted the back of her free hand on her forehead as her face contorted in mock-guilt.  “Oh, shame on me.  I upset the devil.  Whatever will become of me?”_

_Lucifer raised an eyebrow dangerously.  “Would you really like me to answer that?” he asked curiously.  Then he leaned in close and dropped his voice to a guttural whisper.  “I do believe that something between your legs in calling for my attention.”_

_The detective’s breath hitched in her throat and he didn’t need to be an expert to know that her arousal had only worsened.  “I’m sure it is,” she agreed breathlessly.  “But then this new year will begin and you will have no idea why I brought you here.”_

_Lucifer considered that.  He could just pin her to the bar and devour her, but his curiosity is somehow outweighing his desire.  “I do believe that your trip down memory lane wasn’t the only reason you brought me here,” he agreed._

_He pulled away and gazed at her expectantly.  Also he took a moment to look her over thoughtfully.  He thought that she would have worn a dress, or something more casual.  Instead she’s wearing a blazer and white shirt, slightly unbuttoned but not enough to show her breasts.  How can she hide those lovely breasts?  At least she’s wearing her hair down._

_Who is Lucifer kidding?  Even if she is dressed for work, she is sexy._

_“I did hate you, Lucifer,” she said thoughtfully.  “There were days when I just wanted shoot you.”_

_“You did once,” Lucifer reminded her.  “No one has ever penetrated me like that—no pun intended.”  It was not a pleasant experience._

_“Yeah, I’m sorry about that,” she apologized, but she was smiling.  “I don’t know how, and I doubt any of your angelic qualities had anything to do with it, but somehow you grew on me.  I came to love having you on my cases.  Not only were you incredibly helpful, but your near perpetual sense of humor eased my otherwise stressful days, even if I never admitted it to myself._

_“You were appalled by my daughter who somehow grew to like you from minute one.”  They both laughed.  Lucifer still wonders if Trixie would have ever liked him if it weren’t for him giving that bully the scare she deserved.  “You grew to like her.  You became her de facto stepfather—or at least she branded you as such._

_“I fell in love you too.”_

_A silly comment on the matter is on the tip of Lucifer’s tongue, but he can’t form any words as his eyes glisten._

_The detective shook her head.  “I don’t know how it happened.  Maybe it was you having my back.  Maybe it was how you partnered up with me when I still felt like a pariah in my own precinct.  Maybe it was the fact that you are just weirdly sexy.”_

_Lucifer smiled appreciatively.  He hoped that she would at least acknowledge that._

_The detective shook her head.  “Oh, what the hell,” she closed the distance between them and stopped mere inches from him.  The glass in Lucifer’s hand fell, shattering against the granite as he watched the woman descend to one knee._

_“Lucifer Morningstar,” she began shakily.  “I grew tired of waiting to hear this from you, so I’m asking.  Will you marry me?”_

_Lucifer’s mouth opened and closed several times.  He_ was _going to ask her.  Weirdly enough, he got nervous.  He wanted to it to be perfect.  Trixie even told him a few days ago to “Just shut up, straighten your blazer, and propose to my mom!”  What can he say?  The detective can make him nervous sometimes._

_“Chloe,” he breathed, actually feeling tears roll down his cheeks.  “I’d love to be your husband.”_

_The detective let out a short laugh.  “Really?  Hell won’t freeze over for me marrying you?  God won’t go ‘ten plagues of Egypt’ on the world?”_

_“Not if I have anything to say about it,” the devil replied, smiling as he helped the love of his life to her feet._

_“Awesome!” cried the detective.  “Now will you please put that Harry Winston engagement ring on my finger?  Don’t give me that look; I’m a detective remember?”_

_Lucifer felt as if the smile on his face was permanent as he fished the small box out of his inside pocket.  He opened it and gently took his fiancée’s hand, sliding the three-karat diamond ring on her finger.  He held out her hand and admired the view.  “Now it’s right where it belongs.  And you Chloe Decker are go to be the happiest wife this world had ever seen.”_

 

“Why do you always get to be the detective?” whines Emma.

Trixie smiles down at her seven-year-old half-sister.  “Because I am the oldest and you look cuter in fancy blazers,” and she means it.  Much like she did when she was her age, Emma wanted to look like her daddy.  What Trixie’s stepfather did not tell her is that he actually got her outfits that made her look more like their mother.  Maybe if their mother was still around to compare, Emma would see that she looks like a miniature Detective Chloe Decker with dark hair pulled back in a bun.

“Yeah, but I could be the fancy detective you can be the criminal mastermind,” Emma points out.  “Please may I be the detective?  Please, please-please- _please_?” 

 _Oh why does she have to be so cute?_ Trixie thinks.  Is this what her mother, father, and stepfather felt whenever she begged them to do stuff?  Trixie didn’t have angelic genes, or that hodgepodge of Welsh and American accents thanks to her parents’ differing voices.

Trixie rolls her eyes and sighs.  “Fine, you can be the detective.”  So long as she doesn’t mess up the Miranda rights again.

“Yay!” squeals Emma.  She disappears from the living room to grab a few things and Trixie sits back on the overstuffed couch.  After moving in, Lucifer hired an interior designer to do some remodeling.  The results made the place look very much like Lucifer’s loft above Lux on a more enclosed space.  There is a full grand piano, a fireplace, and a glass coffee table between the overstuffed couches to name a few.  The television sets aren’t as great as they were back home, in her own time and dimension, but Lucifer found the best he could find. 

Trixie has not betrayed Lucifer’s trust when it comes to alcohol, but given the younger, more naïve half-sister of hers, he wasn’t able to have his liquor on such a decorative display as he would have liked.  Instead, it’s all kept in a locked closet in the basement not far from Trixie’s bedroom. 

She isn’t sure what her half-sister is doing, but while she waits, Trixie gets up and heads over to the kitchen.  The kitchen is set up like an incomplete hexagon.  Going clockwise, there’s the sink and adjacent dishwasher on one side, counter space on the next with the knife block and spice rack Trixie found for her mother at a flea market, the gas stove and oven on the third, the large refrigerator on the forth, and yet more—and larger—counter space on the fifth.  That same side is also large enough to have some high stools situated around it, making it a great place to enjoy breakfast.

Going to the refrigerator, Trixie opens it up and selects an apple before closing it again. 

Just as she takes a large bite out of the apple, she feels a presence behind her.  She halts in mid-bite and turns around slowly.  Her eyes land on Emma with her hands on her hips wearing one of Lucifer’s sunglasses and a toy badge on her belt. 

“Trixie Morningstar,” she begins in a commanding voice.  “You are under arrest!”

Trixie watches pitifully as her half-sister dramatically pulls a pair of toy handcuffs out of her pocket.  She pulls them out too fast and she loses her grip on them.  Trixie’s eyes follow the handcuffs as they fly across the kitchen before landing in the cereal bowl on top of the refrigerator that she and Lucifer use for their car keys.  Then her eyes return to Emma.

“That was smooth,” she says, having no trouble keeping a straight face.  “That was _very_ smooth.”

Emma opens her mouth as her cheeks flush and no sound comes out. 

“Now, Detective Little Devil, I am going to continue my diabolical plan to enjoy this apple.”  Trixie takes another languorous bite of her apple and saunters back to the living room.  It’s not long after she sinks back into the couch that she hears stifled sobs. 

She looks back towards the kitchen and sees Emma had slumped down in front of the refrigerator, crying softly.   Abandoning all amusing pretenses, Trixie gets back up and heads back to the kitchen.  Emma slides over a little and Trixie sits down next to her. 

Trixie puts a gentle arm around her half-sister and squeezes her gently.  “Hey, what’s the matter?  I can get the handcuffs back down for you.”  She’s trying to comfort her, but she knows that the tears run a bit deeper than that.”

“I miss Mommy,” sobs Emma, her voice muffled under her arms.

Trixie does her best to keep from crying herself.  People at school know her to be a closed-off, unfazed outcast who likes girls.  She’s so quiet that when she does speak or lash out, everyone notices.  The only people who seem to have reached out to her so far are Clark Queen, Chloe Sullivan, and Lois Lane.  She really likes Lois and Chloe.  She was disappointed to realize that Lois Lane wasn’t into girls the way she is, but Chloe seems worth pursuing. 

She doesn’t want to be too aggressive.  Chloe Sullivan and Clark Queen have been broken up for about a month maybe and neither of them seem ready to pursue new relationships.  Still, Trixie has caught herself staring a little too long as Chloe.  That seemingly perfect bob of hair, all those freckles situated in the all the right places, her breasts…Trixie is a girl who feels that breast size is highly overrated.  She had a friend once whose breasts caused her chronic pains in her lower back as they were quite large, and another friend whose breasts were small enough to almost have a “flat” chest. 

Still, Chloe’s breasts are quite lovely.  Staring at her cleavage and seeing that little freckle on her left breast makes Trixie wonder if the rest of her breasts have any freckles. 

Trixie snaps out of her distracted thoughts and focuses on Emma. 

“I miss Mommy too,” she whispers. 

“I just want to be like her,” Emma continues.  “I want her to be proud of me.”

 _You and me both, little sis,_ Trixie thinks.  However, a part of her sees Emma as a nightclub owner like Lucifer.  In fact, prior to their mother’s death, that’s exactly what she wanted to be and not because of Lucifer.  She’s a little too young to fully understand the movie, but Emma watched _Casablanca_ with her older sister and she wanted to be just like Rick.

That or she just fell in love with the quote, “Of all the gin joints, of all the places in the world, and she walks into mine.”

If Emma’s going to go that route, her nightclub would likely be jazzier than anything else.  Lucifer might sway her into adding a little bit of kink, but Trixie would make sure he let her be the final judge of how it would turn out. 

“You are like Mommy,” Trixie insists. 

Emma lifts her head and stares up at her half-sister.  “How so?”

“You’re awesome,” Trixie replies with a wink.  “I might be worried that someone took over your body if you weren’t awesome like Mom was.  Remember that time you beat that burglar with a frying pan?”

Emma giggles.  “I was up looking for a snack and when I went to the kitchen I saw him grab you.  A big, scary guy in a black mask and I grabbed the pan and started spanking him.”

Trixie joins her with giggles of her own.  If Emma had been a normal girl, she might not have been so lucky.  That or the burglar was so startled about being beaten with a pan by a little girl half his size that he couldn’t react in time.  Still, the commotion woke up their mom and Lucifer and their mom cuffed him and called it in. 

Trixie thinks that Lucifer and her mother had sex that night because her mother was only wearing a hastily buttoned shirt that clearly belonged to Lucifer.  As incredibly awkward as it was, it was still a good memory.

Their tender moment is interrupted by the sound of the doorbell.  It makes them both jump. 

Trixie helps Emma to her feet.  “Why don’t you go wash your face with some warm water while I see who’s at the door,” she suggests.  She really hates having had to take up some sort of motherly role for her sister, but she embraces it as best she can.  However, there are times when she would rather just be a big sister to her. 

She straightens herself out and wipes her eyes clean as she heads to the door.  As she unlocks and opens it, she could not be more surprised by who is visiting. 

“Lana?” she asks.  “If you’re looking for Lucifer, he isn’t home.  He’s stuck under a mountain of paperwork at the school.”

Lana smiles shortly.  “No worries.  May I come in?”

 _Sure, why not?_   Trixie opens the door wider and Lana steps inside. 

“You have a lovely home,” comments Lana, taking a thoughtful look around the whole place. 

Trixie blinks several times.  “You act like you’ve never been here before.  Lucifer invites you over for dinner at least once a week.”

Lana stares back at her absentmindedly for a minute.  Then she seems to gather her senses and smiles.  “Oh, yes, of course.  I guess I never took much time to notice.”

Trixie frowns.  Her inherent detective skills nurtured by her mom and dad (on separate occasions) are firing all over the place.  “Lana, is everything okay?”

“Yes, everything is fine,” Lana replies quickly.  She says everything is fine, but Trixie isn’t sure she likes how Lucifer’s tenant is staring at her.  It’s like she’s taking in every inch of her form.  It feels like she’s looking _into_ her to the point that Trixie feels naked before her in every way.

Trixie tries to start a conversation before her discomfort gets too high.  “So, since Lucifer isn’t here, what can I do you for?”

Lana stares a little longer before a smile spreads across her lips.  “My friend, Chloe is having a party to celebrate her birthday.  Would you and your sister like to come?”

Trixie’s heart skips a beat, but she tries not to show her growing excitement.  “Why couldn’t Chloe ask me herself?” it seems like a reasonable question.

Lana raises her eyebrows.  “It would spoil the element of surprise.  How can such a _surprise_ party be achieved if the person it’s for knows about it already?”

Trixie thinks that Chloe seems like the kind of girl who would be difficult to keep secrets from.  A secret like that is awfully trivial, so Chloe had to have found out about it already.  Plus, it might just be her being paranoid, but something about Lana seems off.  Her mother was a detective, so some clue-hunting skills rubbed off on her a bit, or so she would like to think so. 

Eventually, she just smiles politely.  “Emma and I would love to; we could use an excuse to get out of the house anyway.”

Lana’s smile widens.  Soon though, she frowns a little.  “I apologize, but where’s your bathroom?”

Trixie blinks.  She’s not sure why Lana is apologizing.  When you have to go, you have to go.  “It’s down the hall, first door on your right.”

Right on time, Emma comes bounding out of the bathroom, her face clean and free of tears.  Trixie watches Lana’s reaction.  Why does she seem to have that almost giddy, if not carnal, excitement in her eyes?

“Lana!” greets Emma.  Trixie knows that the two of them tend to get along.  At the Talon, they seem to have become hair-braiding buddies.  Lana also buys her sodas and hot chocolates.  It’s actually quite funny to Trixie.  Lucifer loves his children, but they still have to pay.  Still, it doesn’t mean he won’t make coffees and sodas for Trixie and Emma respectively when they have had bad days. 

“Emma,” Lana greets back.  It might have been a greeting, but what’s with the amount of reverence in Lana’s voice?

Lucifer once told Trixie that she would make a good detective should she follow her parents’ footsteps—or mainly her mother’s; her dad has always been Detective Douche to Lucifer.

“How are you today, Emma?” asks Lana.

Emma smiles widely.  “I’m doing great!” she definitely didn’t inherit Lucifer’s penchant for always telling the truth.  “How about you?” the question is genuine, but she fixes her gaze on Lana. 

 _Oh, boy_ , Trixie thinks.  Her little sister is attempting yet again to do what Lucifer does.  How long before…?

“I’m…I’m doing better than I have in a _very_ long time,” Lana replies submissively. 

Trixie has to fight back her smile.  Lucifer will be so proud!

“Okay,” says Emma, nodding slowly.  “Now tell me, what do you desire most in this world?”

Trixie sees Lana gulp as she blinks.  Her face, while clearly showing signs of not understanding what’s happening, shows small traces of excitement.  To Trixie, she looks like someone who is excited to ride a rollercoaster that she knows she will hate. 

“Come on, please, please, _please_ tell me?” begs Emma, taking Lana’s hands and bouncing up and down.

“I desire to be the greatest sorceress that ever lived,” breathes Lana.  “I want people to tremble before me.  I want people to fear my name.”

Emma exchanges a glance with Trixie.  Trixie doesn’t know what to say.

“Oh, I get it!” yells Emma with glee.  “You want to be just like Voldemort!  Can my sister and me be the Harry Potter and Hermione Granger to your Voldemort?” 

Trixie is actually enjoying this.  Either it’s because of Emma’s huge love of those books, or because of Lana’s reaction to her saying that she could defeat her, Trixie is having some fun with this.  “Nah, she could be Bellatrix Lestrange,” she suggests.

Lana rounds on her with a dangerous glare. 

Unfazed, Trixie continues.  “Yeah, just mess up your hair a bit and lose a day’s sleep or two to get the heavy-lidded eyes and you could be Voldemort’s bitch!”

“Wait, what?” asks Emma, cocking her head.  “Not the bad word, but what?”

Trixie smiles patiently at her half-sister.  “Maybe you didn’t pick up that little detail when I read _Order of the Phoenix_ to you, but Bellatrix was clearly in love with Voldemort.”

Emma grimaces.  “Eww!”

Trixie nods her agreement.  Then she turns to Lana.  “So, assuming you’ve read the books, which would you rather be?  Voldemort or Bellatrix Lestrange?  Personally, I think Bellatrix would be more accessible, unless you want to shave your head.”

Lana shakes her head vigorously.  “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I have to leave.”  Before anyone can stop her, Lana yanks a thread of hair out of both their heads. 

 _What was_ that _for?_ Trixie wonders, massaging her scalp.  Before she can confront Lana, Lana is already storming out the door.  

Emma goes to a window near the front door.  “Whoa!  Trixie I think she really is a witch!”

“I highly doubt that, little sis,” mutters Trixie as she goes back to the living room and slumps down onto a couch. 

“But she disappeared in a puff of purple smoke!” insists Emma. 

Trixie raises an eyebrow.  She gets up and even though she made herself comfortable goes over to join her sister by the window.  She grasps Emma’s shoulders and massages them as she gazes out the window.  Indeed, she sees no car.  Her first thought is that she drove off really fast, but that fast, the whole neighborhood would have heard her.

Lana told Emma her deepest desire, but Trixie assumed that Lana was just dabbling with occultist stuff.  Playing with fake spells and concocting potions with herbs and other weird stuff. 

“Emma, I’m going to call Lucifer,” says Trixie.  She goes over to the phone in the kitchen and dials Lucifer’s cell. 

And Trixie thought Los Angeles was a weird town.

***

Lana wishes she could hear her own laughter.  The way her ancestor, Isobel was fuming over what she feels is “insulting” is becoming the highlight of Lana’s day.  It’s only been a day, but at this moment, Lana doesn’t mind taking a backseat in her own mind.  If she were to put it into words, it feels as if she’s sitting in an armchair sculpted from broken glass as she watches a first-person account of her own life through a television screen. 

“ _I don’t what you were expecting when you needed to take a closer look at Lucifer’s children, but that was awesome_!” Lana laughs. 

Isobel grumbles.  “The older one is not the child of the Satan.  And the younger one’s blood might be tainted with human blood, but it will do.  I sure hope Satan himself isn’t as big a joke as his children are.”

Now Lana quits laughing.  “ _Trixie and Emma are actually very fun to be around.  Or did you forget everything you saw when_ you _were the passenger in my head_?  _I don’t know what you’re planning, but you are off to a lousy start so far._ ”

Earlier, Isobel had stopped by Clark Queen’s house and found Oliver Queen practicing archery.  Isobel commented on Oliver’s archery skills.  Showing a bit of humility, Oliver argued that he felt a little rusty.  Lana wished she could have done something as Isobel decided to have a little bit of fun.  She cast a spell on Oliver to make him practice archery indefinitely while she went and selected some sort of French wine from the Queens’ wine cabinet.

Right now, Isobel is near a bridge near the woods.  She called Lois and Chloe asking them to meet her there.  Right now she has mixed a few potion ingredients in with the wine—waste of wine in Lana’s opinion—and is reciting a bunch of spells in Latin.  Chloe is the one who studies Latin.  She would have an idea of Isobel is saying.

Eventually, the potion turns purple and fumes come out.  Lana guesses that means that the potion is complete.

“Okay, what are we doing in the woods?” asks what Lana knows to be Lois’ voice.  Isobel turns around and sees that it is indeed Lois.  She doesn’t look like she wants to be here anymore than Lana does.

“Chloe is right behind me and the moonlight nature hike is making her a little suspicious,” Lois informs her.

“ _Oh, do yourself a favor and get the hell out of here_!” Lana tries so hard to get that to come out of her own mouth.  So she has trouble accepting that she has no control over her body.  Sue her.  Amusingly, Lana isn’t even sure if Isobel knows what the word “sue” means.  If she ever regains control of her body, she might just look up its etymology.

Isobel smiles innocently.  “I thought it would be nice to get together with my girls before tomorrow’s party.”

“What party?” asks Chloe, running up to stand beside Lois. 

Lois smiles contemptuously.  “Way to ruin the surprise,” she snaps. 

Chloe scoffs.  “Oh, you mean the party you’ve been planning for the last month?”

Lois shoots a look at her cousin.  “You know about that?”

“Oh, hello,” Chloe says singsong.  “Investigative reporter; nothing gets past me.”  Her smirk quickly turns to a frown.  “Except why we’re playing wood nymph when Clark and Oliver invited us over for a game night?”

Isobel’s smile widens.  “Well then I guess we better hurry.”  She turns around briefly to pick up a couple of wineglasses and hands them to Lois and Chloe.  For two people who are quite smart, Lana will very much like to call them on this rather stupid moment from them both.

“A toast in honor of tomorrow’s special night,” Isobel continues.

Lois and Chloe nod thoughtfully.

“Alright, this is getting better,” comments Lois.

“No matter how much time passes,” begins Isobel as she pours the wine into their glasses.  “Old friend are never forgotten.”  Is she referring to those two friends of hers that were burned at the stake with her?

Chloe looks thoughtful.  “I’ll drink to that,” she says with a smile.

“Cheers,” Isobel salutes and Lois and Chloe echo her as they clink their glasses.

Lana then feels like she’s in a Disney princess movie as thunder rumbles and wind begins to pick up all around them.  In between the flashes of lightning, Lana sees the eyes of her friends turn purple and they throw their heads back as if ducking to avoid an invisible bar flying past them.  Just as quickly, they right themselves and the thunder and wind stop. 

Isobel seems proud of herself.  “Madeline?” Lana quickly realizes she’s talking to Chloe.

Chloe acknowledges her. 

“Brianne?”

Lois acknowledges.

Isobel used Lois and Chloe as hosts for her dead friends!  Lana wonders if they have the same awareness as she does in her own head. 

“Welcome to the twenty-first century,” announces Isobel.

“How did we come to be here?” asks Chloe— _Madeline_ —in awe. 

 _With a spell, you dumbass_ , Lana mutters to herself.  Isobel already seems to have a similar explanation as she describes how the spell from Lana’s dream-memory was bound with the symbol.  It must be why Lana felt…drawn to the symbol she found on Isobel’s tomb in Paris.  She then smugly says how she gained possession of her body. 

“ _More accurately, you took up residence in my head and then it was reversed so that_ I _was stuck in my_ own _head_ ,” Lana seethes.  Isobel ignores her.

“And then I brought you back,” Isobel finishes proudly. 

“I’m gorgeous!” Lois— _Brianne_ —sounds about ready to swoon over her own body.  “Look at these!” Lana rolls her eyes as Brianna holds up Lois’ breasts.  As prominent as they are, Lana never thought Lois seemed like the kind of girl who makes a habit of making people notice them.  Chloe wears low-cut tops more often, but at the same time she doesn’t flaunt herself much either. 

Isobel seems to share the same sentiment as her eyes flick towards Lois’ breasts briefly.  “Yes, they’re very nice,” she mutters distastefully.  It sounded to Lana like more of a _shut up_.

Madeline inhales deeply.  “Ah, the woods of France, I would know them anywhere.”

Isobel frowns.  “We’re in Kansas, Madeline.”

“ _Wow, Izzy_ ,” Lana marvels.  “ _If these two bitches are as idiotic as they sound so far, then I guess some clichés are older than I thought.  The three of you sound just like some prissy girl posse that I’ve seen way too many times at school._ ”

“Where?” asks Brianne, incredulous.

“The Americas,” replies Isobel, frowning as she took a look around.  “I am unsure as to why I was resurrected here.”  _Because I got on a plane and returned_ from _France!_ “It was not my intention, but…”  If Lana could hear her own moans, she would be very happy right now.

An epiphany hits Madeline.  “The book!  Do you have it?”

Isobel smiles towards the picnic basket.  “It is ours once again.  And with it, our magics.” 

Lana smirks.  “ _If you are powerless without that hideous book, then how powerful are you—really_?”

Isobel ignores her.  “Now we may continue our quest for the stones.”

Her friends don’t seem to share her enthusiasm.  “Uh, is that the same quest that got us burned at the stake?” asks Madeline.

“That was not pleasant,” agrees Brianne.

All things considered, Lana doesn’t feel that anyone deserves the pain of being burned alive. 

“A small toll to the road of ultimate power,” Isobel insists.  _And just what do you plan to do with all that power?_

Her friends don’t seem too reassured. 

“You have your hosts’ memories; use them to navigate this world and help us to seize the power.”

At that bit of encouragement, Isobel’s friends seem to have found their confidence.

Inside her own head, Lana is trembling.  Whatever these ladies have planned can’t be good.  More than anything, she wants it all to end sooner than later.


	27. Chapter Twenty-Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one’s for Rach, Loki, and BigRed67 ;)

_June 11 th, 2000_

_I almost became childless this past weekend.  I guess life has a way of reminding you not to take things for granted.  I spent long enough mourning over the loss of Oliver and then I said a few nasty things to Clark, I guess I still haven’t shown Clark how much I enjoy having him in my life as I should have.  Not that I don’t love Clark, but as of this past weekend, I think I’m beginning to take extra care in showing I do._

_Clark and his friends were enjoying their summer.  They were just out enjoying a one-hundred-degree afternoon at Crater Lake.  Poor Chloe must have lost her battle to keep from getting sunburnt as her arms, shoulders, and cheeks were a nasty shade of red.  She’s had a pretty miserable week.  According to Gabe and Clark, she’s barely been out of her house, she’s so embarrassed._

_Not that I don’t have any sympathy for her, but that doesn’t really come close to what happened to Clark.  Clark and Pete were tossing Pete’s football back and forth and, no surprise, Clark threw it too hard and it soared into the woods.  When Clark went to retrieve it, he was in for what will probably be the worst afternoon of his life yet._

_While searching, from what he told me, he tripped over some of foliage and took a tumble down a hill.  It’s really not that big of a deal where he’s concerned (though still unpleasant) but it’s what he landed in that was the problem.  As he tumbled, he landed in a ditch.  The ditch was full of green meteor rock.  It’s not the first time it’s happened to him, but last time, he had his brother to help him out of it._

_Clark suffered for an hour before help came.  I’m surprised he hadn’t died.  Even when help did come, the ditch was so deep he could just be carried out.  I stuck in Topeka on business.  Laura was with them that afternoon and she enlisted the help of Pete and a few other boys who were there that day to get Clark out.  They did get a bit creative._

_As cover for not being able to stand, Laura convinced everyone that Clark had a broken leg and was unconscious from an allergic reaction to some of the greenery.  Technically, that second part was quite true.  Some of the boys had dirt bikes and what they did is they tied a rope around Clark’s shoulders and tied the other end to the dirt bike.  Then with the help of the dirt bike, they got Clark, then Laura out of the ditch._

_It was another hour of being exposed to direct sunlight before Clark woke up again.  That whole time, Laura sat vigil next to him.  I wish I could have made it home sooner.  I even got myself a speeding ticket from a young female deputy trying to get back to Smallville.  I didn’t matter that I explained my situation.  I don’t use my identity as a billionaire to get out of trouble, but a son in peril?_

_All I got was a “Like I haven’t heard_ that _before.”_

_When Clark did wake up, he wasn’t as scared of what happened as he could have been, according to Laura.  He just told his mother dejectedly, “Well that could have been a better afternoon.”_

_He may not have reacted the way Laura and I thought he would have, but there does seem to have been an effect.  The ordeal seems to have renewed his depression over being so different.  While Chloe has been at home resting off her nasty sunburns, Clark has been holed up in his loft just staring out the window._

_More and more, I catch him staring at the stars at night.  It’s as beautiful as it is depressing.  He doesn’t have to say it; I suspect he has given just about every star considerable thought.  No doubt, he wonders which of them he came from._

_I think it would break his heart if I told him what Virgil told me.  It wasn’t long ago that the red star that the planet Clark came from disappeared from the sky.  It’s hard to tell how long ago it was that that star died, but then again how many of the stars in the sky are actually still there?  How many of them are just lights in the sky that are only just reaching Earth long after their sources died?_

_It’s a scary thought, considering that it’s bound to happen to the sun.  If the human race still exists then, I’m sure they will have moved on to some other inhabitable place._

_I think it’s about time that I have Clark start seeing Virgil.  Virgil is only a brilliant scientist making the best of the information provided, but he’s the best person to help Clark find some understanding of who he is, what he is, where he came from, and why he came to Earth.  The “why” might be the most difficult to find an unbiased answer for.  It’s the same question that Veritas had been trying to find an answer for.  I was skeptical; Virgil (rightly) thought he’d be someone that we ought to nurture as best we could; Lionel was—is—a mistrustful megalomaniac who thought he needed to be_ controlled _; the Teagues’ reasons weren’t clear, but they did have a contingency plan._

_I was horrified when I found out, but they proposed a plan to “put down” the Traveler if he didn’t turn out to be what we wanted him to be.  Clark Queen is not an animal!  He’s not something to just “put down” when he doesn’t grow to be what we want him to be._

_Still as much as I love him, I have to be mindful of what he could become.  It could be why he should start seeing Virgil.  I’ll talk to him about it soon, but right now I just want him to try and enjoy his summer._

Oliver watches with his arms propped on a pitchfork as he watches his little brother fly back and forth with a giggling Claire Kent.  The toddler must be having the time of her life.  Part of Oliver wants to smile up at them.  Part of him wants to throw something at his brother.  Finally, a part of him wishes he had his bow so that he could shoot him out of the sky like a bird.  The second two would endanger Claire.  He likes Claire. 

Smugly, Oliver reminds himself that _he_ was the one Claire walked up to for the first time and not Clark.  Still how is he supposed to compete when Clark can take her flying anytime he or she wants?  It’s not like she’s old enough for him to start teaching to use a bow.  Plus, Martha didn’t like the idea of her daughter having a toy bow. 

Clark had finished his day’s chores around the Kent farm—and at an inhuman speed—and Oliver is still stuck tossing hay and mucking the stables.  In fairness, Clark did offer to help, but Oliver turned him down.  He wishes he had not.  His arms are still sore from shooting arrows for four hours straight before Clark came home and helped him out of his trance.  As a result, he was offered less strenuous work around the farm.  Oliver thinks that he might have been a little too stubborn in insisting on doing hard work.

What should have taken him only an hour or two has stretched into over three hours. 

Claire had come out of the house with her mother, who was offering them fresh lemonade and Clark offered to take the toddler flying.  Martha and Jonathan must really trust Clark if they were willing to let him play with their daughter like that. 

It wasn’t long after Clark picked up the one-year-old redhead and he counted off his ascension as if he was a space shuttle about to launch.  When he did rise, Jonathan said,

“Houston, we have liftoff!”

Oliver was left to stand at the opening of the barn facing the yellow house feeling stupid and left out. 

“Hey Oliver, these stables aren’t going to muck themselves.”

Oliver inhales sharply as his eyes find Jonathan Kent with his arms crossed and eyebrows raised in a mildly stern gaze. 

He clears his throat.  “Oh, sorry, Uncle Jonathan, I was…”

Jonathan laughs softly.  “I know what you were doing; don’t sweat it.”  He goes to stand next to Oliver and together they look up at Clark and Claire.  “You probably wish you could do something like that with my daughter, don’t you?”

Oliver doesn’t say anything. 

“There is something you can do for her, you know.” 

Oliver turns toward him with a frown.  Jonathan meets his gaze with look to match his reassuring voice.

“I think you and I both know that at some point Clark is going to have to leave for a time,” he states. 

Oliver hates to admit it, but Jonathan is right.  “I just got my brother back,” he says softly.  “Yet, I go to bed every night know that at some point, sooner than later, he’s going to leave.  Worst part is that I have no idea for how long and I don’t think that there will be an open line of communication.  Destiny sucks.”

Jonathan reaches out and grasps his shoulder in a manner that five years ago, Oliver would have felt was too fatherly.  “You know I really don’t believe in destiny?”

Oliver cocks his head and blinks several times. 

Jonathan sighs deeply and he leads Oliver over to a bench for them to sit down.  “When Clark was introduced to what turned out to be an artificial intelligence of his biological father, it wasn’t what you’d call a happy reunion.  The bodiless entity of his father turned out to be quite strict.  From what we were all able to tell, his father—Jor-El—had a bit of a sinister vision of Clark’s destiny.  He wanted him to be a ‘ruler’ to us humans.  Plus, towards the end of your brother’s sophomore year, Jor-El tried to force him to leave Smallville. 

“You remember Clark’s spaceship?”

Oliver nods.

“It was becoming more trouble than it was worth and your father had it destroyed.  Don’t ask me how; your father died before he could tell me.  I can say that it had nothing to do with your parents’ deaths.”  Jonathan shakes his head, looking like he’s fighting off a two-year-old rage.  “I nearly put myself in prison _and_ lost my farm trying to find out what really happened to your parents.”

Oliver groans.  “Oh, Uncle Jonathan, you didn’t have to do all that.”

Jonathan’s head snaps up and locks eyes with Oliver and Oliver falls silent.  “Your father was my best friend.  If I had thought that that plane crash was truly an accident, consoling your brother would have been the _only_ thing I ever did.  I’m no detective, but something in my gut tells me that there was something off about that explosion.”  He shakes his head. 

“Anyway, I don’t believe that there’s any one way to achieve your destiny.  We might never know what Jor-El’s true intentions were and the fact that he’s an A.I., his feelings toward how Clark does things will never evolve.”  Jonathan grimaces.  “At least I think so; maybe Kryptonians figured out a way for their computers to have feelings.  So far, I doubt it.

“You say destiny sucks, but I think it’s very ambiguous,” Jonathan declares.  “When Clark does leave, I think it’ll just be as if he went to college.  He’ll learn whatever Jor-El has in store for him, but what he does with everything he learns is up to him.  Same as if he went to college, what he does in the end will be his choice and his alone.” 

“Let’s just hope he doesn’t settle on world domination,” Oliver mutters.

Jonathan blinks several times, but soon they start laughing. 

Oliver does hope, however, that in the end Clark will still be a badass archer like him.  In his eyes, they would make a hell of a team. 

Just then, Clark finally descends from the sky.  As he reaches the ground, Martha comes up to meet them.  The little girl must have really enjoyed herself, because she starts crying as Clark hands her back to her mother. 

Oliver whimpers playfully.  “Mm, Claire likes Clark better than her own mother.”

Jonathan chuckles as the two of them get up.  “Oh, that’s just what toddlers do when they are upset.  It can be as dreadful and nerve-wracking as it can be adorable.”

Oliver takes his word for it as they walk over to join them.  Martha bobs her daughter gently as she shushes her. 

“Okay, boys we’ve been meaning to as you something,” announces Jonathan. 

Clark and Oliver straighten up expectantly. 

Jonathan puts his arm around Martha and that warm smile of his spreads across his face.  Oliver doesn’t think that he’s ever seen a more beautiful family. 

“Martha and I are going out of town for the weekend, and we were hoping you two would be willing to take care of Claire while we’re gone,” Jonathan explains. 

Clark and Oliver share a look.  It shouldn’t be too hard, should it?  They are already very good with her.

“We’d love to,” Clark volunteers. 

Jonathan’s smile widens. 

“And I’ve made a basket of things that Claire will need, so don’t worry about buying any baby materials,” Martha says quickly.

Oliver fights back a grimace.  He likes Claire, but Clark’s the better—or rather more willing—choice for changing diapers and such.  He also thinks it’s a good thing they brought the SUV, otherwise they would have had trouble figuring out where to put the baby seat. 

Also, it’s Chloe’s birthday today, so that ought to be interesting.

Soon, after helping them get their luggage together, the Queens are waving off their godparents.  When their pickup truck disappears, they exchange glances and offer the baby in Clark’s arms a considerate look.  “Looks like we got ourselves a handful,” Clark announces.

 _Don’t sound so excited about it_ , Oliver thinks.  He hopes nothing goes wrong.

***

Clark plays “peek-a-boo” with Claire as Oliver drives them home.  He might be playing it cool, but truth be told, he’s nervous as hell!  Not just because he and his brother have to watch over the girl for a full two days, but also because of how Lois will react.  Clark has no idea how Lois feels about kids, much less babies, but no doubt she will feel annoyed about Claire’s presence.  With Claire in the house, Lois is really going to have to keep Chloe’s birthday party appropriate.

Knowing Lois, she will probably be seriously bummed out about it.  On the upside, Clark will get to see her moan and groan about her plans being foiled.  He’s also sure that Chloe won’t mind the toddler at her birthday party. 

Sometimes, Clark finds himself glancing at his brother as he drives them home.  He doesn’t plan on telling him, but Clark was listening in on the conversation he had with Jonathan.  Clark’s original intentions were to head off on what he feels will be more of a journey of self-discovery—or wherever the stones will lead him when he finds the third one—right after high school.  With Oliver back in his life, he’s not sure he wants to leave that quickly.  Not just for Oliver’s sake, but for his own.

The past few months have been some of the happiest Clark has had in a long time and he doesn’t want that to change.  At least not until he knows he’s ready.  Will he ever be ready though?

Overhearing Jonathan’s words, Clark thinks he feels less wary about the whole ordeal.  It’s true, he’s worried about what Jor-El wants him to be.  From the way Jor-El presented it, it sounded quite monstrous.  Clark wants to help people.  He wants to go to college even.  In fact, yesterday, he met with a professor from Princeton.  They had a nice chat and the professor told him that things were looking favorable for him.  Would it be so wrong if Clark did four years at university and _then_ did whatever Jor-El wanted him to do?  He sure doesn’t want to waste the college opportunity he’s been offered.

As they enter their neighborhood, Clark tries to not think about it too hard.  It’s something that he shouldn’t have to worry about at the moment. 

When they get to the house, Clark almost grimaces at how the garage had been decorated.  To make room for Chloe’s birthday party, all the cars had been moved to the driveway.  Insisting on helping, Oliver enlisted the help of Tess to set up for Chloe’s birthday.  Tess seemed smart enough to realize that it would be more fun if it was something that wasn’t set up by a professional or anything.  Still, what she and Lois ended up doing looks very good.

Since Oliver and Clark didn’t trust anybody with them, they gathered up all the car tools in their boxes and moved them over to the shed in the backyard.  In place of their tools, the worktables were loaded with cups, snacks, a chocolate fountain, and even drinks.  Tess can be naughty, but she’s not naughty enough to provide beer for a bunch of teenagers.  Also, the DJ’s workstation is set up on a sturdy platform on their in-ground car lift.

Clark thinks it’s quite clever.  It gives the DJ a raised platform without having to bring in a portable stage.

If this is how things are going to happen, then Clark thinks that he and Oliver will have to take turns looking after Claire.  Jonathan will chase them to the ends of the Earth with his shotgun if anything happens to his daughter.

As they park, Clark hears music coming from inside the house. 

Oliver rolls his eyes.  “What’s Lois up to now?  Is she holding a rehearsal bash for Chloe’s birthday party?”

“Your answer is as good as mine,” replies Clark. 

Oliver grabs Claire while Clark grabs her baby supplies.  Clark also says a silent prayer of thanks to his parents for never throwing away the crib.  He knows right where to find it.  He was going to give it to the Kents for when Claire was born, but Jonathan had already made a crib for her.  He did give them a lot of his and Oliver’s baby toys though.

As they near the front door, it sounds like Lois has the stereo turned up excessively high.  Concerned about Claire’s ears, Oliver waits outside with her as Clark goes in and finds the remote to the stereo.  When he does, something catches his attention.

His eyes land on Lois.  It’s the fact that she’s dancing around like an idiot to the music, it’s what she’s wearing.  What the hell is she wearing?  Lois always seems to favor jeans, tank tops, and maybe even a few buttoned jackets when it’s chilly enough, but none of that is what Clark sees.  She’s wearing knee-high black leather boots with stiletto heels and her equally black strapless dress hugs her breasts so tightly that they look a little larger than they really are.  All things considered, her breasts look lovely, and not because of their size, but…

Clark snaps back into attention and clicks the stop button on the remote.  Immediately, the music ceases.  Lois stops dancing and her spoonful of ice cream halts halfway to her mouth.  There’s another thing, she was devouring that ice cream— _his_ ice cream—like she had never tasted ice cream in her life. 

She turns and they lock eyes.  Clark thinks he sees a brief flash of unfamiliarity in her eyes, as if for a moment she didn’t know who he is. 

Clark throws up his hands.  “What the hell is this?”

“I was listening to great music,” replies Lois, a little too excitedly. 

Clark grimaces.  He’s not sure if overplayed Nickelback songs are _great_ music.  In fact, he remembers Lois saying some very harsh things about Nickelback.  Why the sudden change?  Also, he doesn’t like the way Lois is staring at him.  Her eyes roam over his worn jeans and filthy T-shirt with a bit too much of a predatory hunger.  She looks like she wants to tear his clothes off.  Clark isn’t even in his best state.  He’s not a full-time farmer.

Thankfully, the sound of Oliver coming in with a giggling Claire gets Lois to tear her gaze off of him. 

“Whoa, Lois,” Oliver marvels.  “Did I miss the goth theme for Chloe’s birthday party?”

Clark shoots his brother a glance.  Oliver shrugs back, but there’s amusement in his eyes.  “Well, I’m going to see if this munchkin wants a nap.” 

Clark turns his gaze back to Lois and she’s giving Claire a similar predatory look.  He hopes it’s not what he thinks it is, because that would just be gross.  “I’m gonna go take a shower,” he mutters. 

He heads to his bedroom and begins peeling off his sweaty clothes.  Out of habit, he grabs a change of clothes to take with him into the bathroom.  When he steps into the bathroom and into the shower, he welcomes to lukewarm spray as he lifts the handle. 

He stands there for a minute or two, just letting the water rain down his body, flooding his vision with his increasingly wet hair.  So many thoughts run through his mind over the conversation he overheard and the possibilities attached to it.  Whatever he does, he’s most concerned with becoming someone his parents could be proud of.  It’s an ache in his chest that he fears will never truly go away.  He never knew Jor-El, so he doesn’t think he’ll ever really mourn him.  Still, he does think about what could have been.

In the summer when Kal had taken over, he got a glimpse of what he could be if he fully surrendered to what Jor-El wanted him to be.  He doesn’t want to be like that, not in the slightest.

As Clark starts rubbing shampoo into his hair, he hears movement.  Curious, he pokes head outside the blue curtain.  What he sees horrifies him.

“Lois?” he shrieks.  “ _Excuse me,_ but what the hell are you doing in here?” 

She’s standing just inside his bathroom door wearing nothing but a towel.  She smirks at him.  “I thought I’d join you.”  And she lets the towel fall to the ground.  

Clark quickly averts his eyes, but in that brief instant, he saw ample breasts and her public region didn’t have a trace of hair.  He swallows hard.  “If you need to take a shower, there are _four other showers in the house_!” 

“But I want to take a shower with you,” argues Lois from the other side of the curtain.  To his worsening horror, he hears her coming closer.  “I can help you reach places that you otherwise have trouble reaching.”  The offer aside, the husky note in her voice makes Clark glad that he’s not taking a hot shower.  Still, he feels blood rushing to his groin. 

“Lois,” he says tightly, “I want you to get out.”

“But don’t you like what you see?” asks Lois.  The way she asks the question, it sounds like a cross between one of those more vain classmates of his begging to be told that their pretty and a twelve-year-old asking his dad if he did well with his science project.  Before he can stop her, he hears her step into the shower behind him.  He dares not turn around. 

“Lois,” he begins through his teeth.  “Even if I didn’t want you to get out, this is wildly inappropriate.  There’s a toddler in the house!” 

“She and your brother are asleep in an armchair,” Lois informs him as he feels the front of her body graze his back.  The thought of his brother and Claire falling asleep together sounds unbelievably adorable.  Also, he can’t deny how good Lois’ body feels.  Then, he almost speaks a _thank you_ as his mind floods with Chloe. 

He turns off the shower, grabs his towel and steps out before Lois can protest.  “Lois, you are Chloe’s _cousin_!” he reminds her forcefully.  He hears her step out of the shower too.  He dares a glance and lets out a sigh of relief to see her wrapping herself up in a towel.  “Listen, Lois, you are very attractive, but I thought you of all people wouldn’t want to…do this with me.”

Lois frowns at him. 

Clark sighs.  “I don’t know if you think you have feelings for me or if you are just looking to have fun, but I’m not going to betray my ex-girlfriend—who’s still my best friend, by the way—like this.”  As he grabs for his clothes and proceeds to head out of the bathroom, he hears Lois say some that sounds like Latin.  Immediately, his body freezes in place. 

He tries to move, but nothing happens.  Then his body turns around until he’s facing Lois again.  “What are you doing me?” he asks, fearfully. 

Lois suddenly doesn’t seem like Lois.  She studies him thoughtfully.  “The stones of power, you’ve touched at least two of them.  I could feel them on your skin.”  A very un-Lois-like smile spreads across her face.  “And you know where they are.”

Clark knows what this is.  It’s magic.  How is Lois using magic on him?  Clark doesn’t have the bracelet that Diana gave him to help deflect magic and worse she isn’t home.  When _is_ Diana coming back from her meeting in Metropolis? 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says slowly.  He hopes he’s a better liar than he gives himself credit for.

Lois chuckles.  “It looks like I’m going to need some help to loosen your tongue.”


	28. Chapter Twenty-Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I left Clark in a bad spot the last chapter. So where was Diana when Clark's afternoon has taken a turn for the worst? To Lucifer fans, I apologize in advance for what's revealed in this chapter.

_August 29 th, 2000_

_Clark has started his eighth grade year.  He never ceases to amaze me.  His extraordinary abilities aside, it’s easy to forget that he’s not human.  While not human, he walks, talks, and looks like a human.  His body also seems to mature at a similar rate as a human.  I am grateful for that quality.  It would be much harder to hide his true heritage from people, especially the paparazzi that follow us whenever we go out of town (other than some of the diehard ones, they mostly stay out of Smallville.)_

_The maturation of his body, the way Clark seems to be going through puberty just like any human, also really intrigues Virgil.  Biology isn’t Virgil’s field of study, but it does fascinate him.  He mused that it might be a worthy study to look deeper into how Clark matures and how it compares to humans.  I politely told Virgil that would be like one of those alien abduction stories where the person in question is experimented on.  In this case, Clark would be the victim and we would be the aliens performing the experimentation.  In fairness, I can see why someone like Virgil would see the benefit of understanding Clark’s anatomy better, but he’s just a boy._

_Clark knows (thanks to me when I drowned my sorrows in the bottom of shot glasses) that he isn’t human.  Some of his recurring nightmares are in fact being experimented on, rejected, and hunted.  Clark worst fear has become being rejected and being considered a monster.  Clark is no monster.  Laura and I remind him of that tirelessly.  Still, it breaks my heart every time I overhear Clark practicing how he would reveal who he is._

_“So, um, I don’t know how to say this, but…I’m from another planet.”_

_“I’m an alien.”_

_“I’m not from anywhere near this galaxy.”_

_“I don’t know exactly where I’m from, but I wasn’t born on Earth.”_

_“I hope this doesn’t change who I am, but I’m…not from around here.”_

_“I have all these abilities, I don’t understand them, but it’s because I’m not human.”_

_“If I told you that I wasn’t from Earth, would you be afraid of me?”_

_Those are some of the things that I’ve overheard.  I hate Clark feeling like a freak.  I have considered having him see a shrink.  I don’t know, maybe it will help.  However, it might mean that he would have to fully share who and what he is.  I don’t trust people enough to just share Clark’s secrets with anyone who comes into our lives.  Still, it might help Clark to have someone to talk to about his insecurities._

_I sure wish I could empathize with him.  I wasn’t born on another planet.  I don’t have extraordinary abilities.  Still, I try to be there for Clark as best I can._

_On a less poignant note, Clark is turning into a handsome young man.  He’s always been handsome, but more and more of his female classmates are beginning to see him.  Clark can be polite and his manners are admirable, but he’s not too interested in pursuing anyone.  Even Lana Lang has started noticing him more.  Clark says that she flirts with him from time to time, but he’s uncomfortable around her.  It doesn’t have much to do with him being nervous, but rather because of her meteor rock necklace.  From my observations, Lana seems to flirt with him a bit more than “time to time.”  She might even have a crush on him._

_Laura has asked Clark if he’s interested in any of the girls.  Clark says he doesn’t know.  He himself might not realize it, but I’ve caught him staring at Chloe a bit.  She seems to be the one girl that he actually enjoys spending time with.  Despite the crush I know she has on him (something Gabe and I joke about sometimes) she has encouraged him to ask a girl out._

_Clark can be assertive, but that doesn’t make asking someone out for the first time too much easier.  The best thing about dates is that it’s all about getting to know someone better.  Clark doesn’t seem to be on the hunt for a girlfriend, but he can still go on dates.  However things can get awkward._

_I don’t know, maybe I was just like them when I was young, but boys—actually men too—can be territorial human beings.  Clark has no problem talking to girls and laughing with them, but when it comes to the ones who are already in relationships of sorts their boyfriends get a bit territorial.  Laura has said out loud, “Why do boys get so territorial when their girlfriends find friends who also happen to be boys?  It’s never been a big turn-on.”_

_Clark asked what a “turn-on” was._

_Laura and I are still debating which of us would be better suited to answer that question._

_I think it will be awkward either way._

“I don’t know why I’m introducing you to my children,” says Lucifer, as he drives.  “It’s no fault of your own, but you are living proof of how despicable humans can be.  Your ancestors looked quite different.  Some of them had fewer health problems.  Some were less ugly.  I’m bringing you into my home where you will make messes; my girls will ogle you, your very demeanor will challenge my own!  That stings a bit.

“However, you’ve already been through enough in your pitiful life.  Yours has been the most pitiful, so yes, I felt obliged to bring you into the lives of my daughters and I.  Since you are going to be with us for some time, here are your duties.”  Lucifer begins counting them off with his manicured fingers.  “You are to love my daughters.  Since you are likely never going to learn to use the loo, you are going to learn to take your business outside.  You are going to _leave me alone_.  Finally, you are going to use your mystical powers to convince my daughters that you are adorable instead of ugly. 

“Do you understand your duties, my little hellhound?”  Lucifer finishes, taking his eyes off the wheel for a minute. 

The ten-week-old black Pug puppy whines up at him and licks her nose.  No doubt she’s desperate to get out of that pet carrier.  Having officially given the Corvette to Trixie, he’s gotten used to driving the Audi SUV.  All things considered, it’s a better vehicle for transporting the puppy. 

The puppy whines again.  She really wants out of that pet carrier.  Lucifer rolls his eyes. 

“Oh, bloody hell,” he groans.  Taking one hand off the wheel, he reaches across the seats and opens the carrier.  “Don’t make me regret this, you runt.”

The quivering Pug puppy bolts out of the carrier and hops into Lucifer’s lap. 

“Uh, excuse me!” he exclaims.  “This suit is Burberry and you’re shedding all over it!”

The puppy ignores him and props her front paws on the armrest of the driver’s side door.  She’s too small to really see out the window, but she is trying her best as she wags that little pigtail. 

Lucifer lets out a defeated sigh.  “Don’t make me regret this, little one.”  He presses the button and the window rolls down.  He breathes in the afternoon air appreciatively.  He hopes that he can catch the girls before they head off to Chloe Sullivan’s birthday party.  Meeting this puppy, they might not even want to go to the party. 

That might be bad timing on Lucifer’s part.  Every so often, he takes his eyes off the road to glance down at the puppy.  He found the poor creature at Smallville’s only animal rescue center.  They found her in a wandering around a state road malnourished and scared.  She’s so skinny that Lucifer can count her vertebrae.  He’s going to change that.  The veterinarian, who spent too much time staring at his crotch, explained to him that they determined her age based off the condition of her teeth. 

He doesn’t always appreciate humanity, but Lucifer does have to admire their ingenuity once in a while.  Determining a creature’s age based on teeth alone, it fascinates him. 

A part of him feels that he should have listened to the vet when she suggested that he introduce the puppy to the girls _before_ he adopted her, but he wanted to surprise them.  Plus, he wanted to show the creature that _he_ could be trusted.  Dogs are surprisingly perceptive animals and he remembers too many incidents where he scared off a dog just by looking them in the eye.  This squashed-faced animal with bulging eyes, a naturally stocky build, and a curly pigtail didn’t fear him in the slightest.  In fact, it took her all of two minutes before she was jumping on him and trying to lick his face.

It actually broke his heart to see how skinny she was.  It was one of those times when he wished he was still in Hell.  He’s never been kind to people who abused animals.  Plus, people for the longest time bred dogs to death for certain characteristics, showing no regard for all the health defects that came along with them.

His father’s most prized creation is both a beautiful and despicable thing.  At least He is smart enough to be aware of that.  He had no reservations of killing most of humanity off with a flood save for a man, his family, and too many animals stuffed onto an ark. 

This animal is in all honesty a hideous animal, but Lucifer likes her.  It’s not her birthday, but little Emma kept telling him that she wanted a hellhound.  Lucifer didn’t have the heart to tell her that hellhounds don’t exist.  The only “hellhounds” are the illusions that people torture themselves with in Hell.  One of his personal favorites was a little Golden Retriever puppy.  Sweetest little animal, but somehow he ended up being a sin that the soul relived over and over again. 

He couldn’t get Emma a hellhound, but that didn’t mean that he was going to forego the idea of a dog altogether.  He wasn’t going to get a puppy from a breeder, so he looked into what puppies were in need of being rescued.  It’s hard even for him to walk into an animal shelter and see all those poor animals. 

He couldn’t save all of them.  Cats and dogs are wonderful creatures, so much better than human beings.  Cats and dogs don’t sin, they don’t commit crimes, they aren’t liars…they just want to be loved.  Some of them become monsters because of how people treat them, or they kill each other because people pit them against each other for entertainment, but some survive their troubles. 

This little Pug puppy is proof of all that. 

“I’m sure you can’t wait until you’re big enough to look out that window,” Lucifer says to the puppy, stealing a glance at how she cranes her neck to see what’s out the window.  His eyes return to the road.  “Oh, God!” he swears.  Wrapping a protective hand around the puppy, he slams both feet on the brake.  The friction throws him forward, but he keeps a firm grip on the puppy so that she doesn’t fly and hit the steering wheel. 

At last, the car skids to a halt.  Lucifer isn’t sure what to make of the sight before him.  Clad in knee-high gold and red boots, a surprisingly attractive one-piece hugging her body like a corset with the same gold, red scheme, a tiara, and armed with a short sword, shield, and what looks like a glowing whip at her hip, the woman looks something like a gladiator.  At her waist, the gold design at her waist comes together in what looks very much like a _W_.  Also, he missed the vambraces at her wrists. 

Lucifer doesn’t know if the gimmick should be considered fierce, ridiculous, or attractive.  The puppy whines up at him, grabbing his attention.  He stares down into those bulging eyes and anger flares through him.  “She almost hurt you, didn’t she, little one?” he sneers softly to the animal.  As angry as he is, he doesn’t want to frighten the poor animal.  “Let’s go speak to her.”

Lucifer unbuckles and opens the door.  After stepping out, he doesn’t even bother closing the door again.

“What is your problem?” he shouts at her.  “You could’ve hurt my new hellhound!”

The…gladiator woman frowns at him, the Pug, and back up at him.  “That’s a Pug puppy.”

Lucifer smiles contemptuously.  “Yes, and you’re the hooligan standing in the middle of a country road dressed like some slutty gladiator.  So why don’t you get out of the street, go back to whatever gladiator reenactment festival you come from, and I’ll be on my way.”  He turns around and gently places the puppy back in the car.  However, before he can climb back into the car himself, he feels something hot wrap around his ankle. 

“Oh, blood hell,” he mutters.  The hot rope yanks him out from under him and it sends him flying off the road into a patch of corn.  He barely screams as he tumbles, knocking over a few stocks along the way.  “Oh, this suit is ruined,” he whines.  He staggers to his knees.  As he does, a pair of red and gold boots floods his vision.  He stops and cranes his neck to get a better look of his assailant.  Now that he has a chance to actually look into her eyes, he laughs.

“Diana Prince?” he asks incredulously.  “And just who are you supposed to be?”

Diana stares down at him with her chin held high.  “I am Diana of Themyscira, daughter of Hippolyta and in the name of all that is good, your presence here is…”

Before she could finish whatever she had to say, Lucifer swings a foot around and knocks her off her feet.  She goes down with a surprised yelp.  “Do you always say all that before you kill someone?” asks Lucifer incredulously.  Quickly, he scrambles around her before she can regain her senses.  He grabs the sword strapped to her back and yanks it out of its sheath. 

“NO!” screams Diana. 

Too late, Lucifer has already armed himself and with the sword in hand, he readies himself in a defensive stance.  “Usually, I’ve already slept with a woman once or twice before they try to hurt me.”

“Put down that sword!” demands Diana.  “It does not belong to you.”

“Come and get it, darling,” Lucifer invites.

With a growl, Diana flies at him.  He quickly dodges her attack and manages to swat her with the flat of the blade against her backside.  She lets out an undignified squeal as she crashes, bringing some corn with her.

“And there’s more where that came from,” snarls Lucifer.  “If you’d like, I can very well do that without any of that ridiculous costume in the way.”

Diana rises to her feet and turns to face him, spitting some dirt out of her mouth.  She gets out her glowing rope and gives it a snap. 

“I really don’t want to hurt you, Ms. Prince,” Lucifer informs her lazily.  “But I don’t mind spanking you a bit.”  He winks at her. 

He senses that Diana is becoming less of a woman on a mission and more of a woman who’s lost her dignity.  He’s not sure if she’s a woman scorned yet.  Hell hath no fury.

Diana drops the rope and the shield.  She’s going for all hands now.  Deciding to follow suit, Lucifer takes the sword in both hands and snaps the blade in half against his knee.  He doesn’t know if that sword had any mystical properties or not, but it’s broken now. 

Plus, it has a desired reaction out of Diana.  She flies at him again and they tumble to the ground in flurry of kicks, punches, slaps, bites and attempts to snap each other’s necks. 

 _This woman fights dirty,_ Lucifer thinks.  She’s actually hurting him too, so that intrigues him even more.  What is this woman?  Whatever she is, she’s a bit of a wonder.  She can’t be too out of this world, because he’s injuring her too. 

Once or twice, both of them try to get the other pinned or placed in a headlock, but soon fail with a counterattack from the other. 

It’s a pretty even fight.  Lucifer thinks that she would make a great torturer in Hell.  He has no idea how much time has passed, but soon the two of them find themselves on their backs, bloodied, and panting hard. 

“You’re a skilled fighter, I’ll give you that,” Lucifer compliments.

“You are an abomination!” pants Diana.  “You’re the one the scribes prophesied would come from a different world and start the apocalypse.”

Lucifer pauses for just a minute.  Then laughter rumbles out of him.  _Sorry, Dad_.  “Oh, for the love of God!” he exclaims.  “Is _that_ why you’re trying to kill me?”

He carefully rises to his feet and begins pacing, breathing hard.  He can feel Diana’s eyes on him.  Finally he loses his composure.  “What the fuck is it with you humans?” he screams, throwing up his hands. 

“I’m a goddess,” Diana corrects him flatly.

Lucifer rounds on her with fire in his eyes.  “A goddess or a bastard daughter of a bastard son?” he asks venomously.

Diana scowls, but no comeback escapes her lips.

Lucifer chuckles contemptuously.  “I saw how sore you got when I told you about the true nature of the gods at that party.  I thought ‘either this woman is a diehard worshipper of pagan gods, or by some sad miracle, she has ties to them’.  I guess the latter rings true.  So whose bastard are you?  Zeus, Poseidon, Ares…?”

“ _I am no daughter of the God of War_!” screams Diana, jumping to her feet.

Lucifer raises his eyebrows.  “Oh, did I hit a sore spot?”

Diana just seethes.

“Rest assured, I have no desire to destroy this world,” Lucifer informs her conversationally.  “Nor did I have any desire to end the world I came from.”

Diana blinks. 

This conversation is quickly dredging up bad memories, but Lucifer fights to maintain his composure.  “I was the devil,” he explains.  “For eons and eons I was forced into being the delegator for all those souls damned to eternal torment for sinning one too many times in life.  Cultures dead and gone and religions thriving with competition have all branded me an evil person.  They blame their suffering and sins on me, claiming that I am the one whispering words of temptation into their ears.

“I grew tired of it.  When I had the opportunity, I abandoned Hell and took up residence in Los Angeles.  I enjoyed myself.  I was living a hair metal song, wasting my time with women and wine as I ran a lavish nightclub.  I had no care in the world.”

He smiles reminiscently.  “Then she came along.”

“Who?” asks Diana, sounding strangely curious. 

Lucifer’s smile melts into a scowl.  “Her name was Chloe Decker, a homicide detective for the L.A.P.D.  At first, I was going to take her to bed like I had so many other women, but she was strangely resistant to my charms.  Needless information, but I grew more attracted to her. 

“Long story short, it was about two or three years before the detective proposed to me.”  Lucifer smirks.  “A brother of mine, Amenadiel was anything but excited for me.  He warned me of Dad’s wrath as angels weren’t supposed to marry, let alone fall in love.  I ignored him.  I married the detective on a beach and we shared a lovely honeymoon in Hawaii. 

“A year and a half down the road, I became a father.  She was born in a hospital bed, instead of a manger.  No wise men came with gifts, no star shined day and night in honor of Emma’s birth, and thankfully, there was no mass infanticide following her birth. 

 “For five years, I felt like the happiest man on Earth.  I had a wife; I had a stepdaughter as well as my own flesh and blood; I was a proprietor to a lavish nightclub in a city where dreams are both achieved and lost.”

Tears were beginning to brim in his eyes.  “Dad works in mysterious ways and I sure felt the consequences of my actions.  I never lost my angelic qualities, but I lost my wife.  My wife was a homicide detective and she was killed off-duty while buying groceries!” it’s a tragic irony that still rings mightily in his ears.  “She had taken a personal week and didn’t feel the need to have her personal gun with her when all she was doing was buying a few things to feed the people in her life that actually needed to eat.”

The memories are making Lucifer weak at the knees and he sinks down into a sitting position before he falls.  He faces away from Diana, but he still feels her presence.  “It wasn’t long before more and more misfortune befell what was left of my family.  Once or twice, an angel came down without Dad’s consent to try and kill my little girl.  I needed to leave.  I used my sister, Azrael’s, blade to pierce the veil.  With the right ritual, it can open a portal into different _existing_ dimensions.  I emptied my bank account, grabbed some belongings, my Corvette, and in one last act of kindness, my brother Amenadiel helped me leave that world. 

“It wasn’t long before we ran into trouble.” Lucifer actually smiles at this one a bit.  “Eventually, we ran into these brothers who wasted their lives crisscrossing the country in a ’67 Impala hunting monsters and demons.  Those idiots didn’t try to kill us, but their stupid trench coat-wearing angel of a friend dubbed my daughter an ‘antichrist’.”  A touch of pride finds its way into his smile.  “My daughter kicked his arse.

“Finally, we found a way to jump dimensions again and we landed here,” Lucifer finishes.  He turns towards Diana.  Her face is unreadable.  “I like it here, Ms. Prince.  I’d rather not have to find somewhere else to live…again.”  He studies her thoughtfully.  “You seem like someone who strives for justice, so tell me, Dina of Thermopylae, bastard of Hippopotamus.  Where’s the justice in a little girl losing her mother at such a tender age?  Where’s the justice in being forced from not one, but two homes in two years?  Where’s the justice now in killing me?  Leaving my daughter and stepdaughter all alone in this world?”

Diana doesn’t seem to have an answer for him. 

Sniffling, Lucifer rises to his feet and straightens his ruined suit.  “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to introduce my daughters to their new friend.  I can bet this ruined suit that that they will love the creature.”  With that he turns on his heel and heads back to the car with the Pug puppy waiting in the middle of the road.

***

Diana sits there for several minutes, watching Lucifer long after he and his SUV disappear.  To say she feels embarrassed would be a massive understatement.  She confronted him hoping to rid the world of a dangerous being.  She had no idea she was in for a broken man with such tragedy. 

He is quite a fighter, she will give him that.  Plus, he’s definitely much, much older than her.  That had to have given him plenty of time to learn a few things along the way.  She looks at the halves of her broken sword.  Not her first sword, but she wasn’t looking to have to create a new one any time soon.  What a waste. 

Did she attack him because she thought he was dangerous?  Diana is beginning to wonder if she attacked him simply because he ruined her pride. 

Listening to his tale, she was conflicted.  This is a man who was the Christian devil in some other dimension.  A bunch of “sympathy for the devil” scenarios run through her mind.  Everyone is encouraged to _not_ feel sympathy for the devil.  Yet, Diana feels that this man, this Lucifer Morningstar deserves a hug.  That or a strong _Boohoo_.

She doesn’t know what to think.  Rising to her feet, she grabs what’s left of her weapons.  Perhaps she will head over to the Queens.  Spending time with Clark and Oliver always puts a smile on her face.  She stops in midstride. 

Today is Clark’s friend, Chloe’s birthday.  She should get her a birthday present.  Everyone will have to wait, but she will get back to the house as soon as she can. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a pug once. She was the sweetest animal in the world. She came from a breeder. The part about being so skinny that you could count her vertebrae is a true story. However that was another dog. She’s quite healthy now but I don’t get to see her too often due to not living in the same house.


	29. Chapter Twenty-Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, this chapter involves rape. Still, let me know what you all think. I hope the latter half of this chapter pleases everyone.

_October 31 st, 2000_

_“I’m too old for trick-or-treating.”  Clark spoke those words last week.  Okay, maybe he and his friends feel that they are too old to be going from door to door begging for candy.  However, he still finds time to dress up and have candy.  His friends convinced him to go to a Halloween party held by Lex Luthor at the Luthor Mansion._

_Clark was in no mood to celebrate.  Last year, he locked himself in his bedroom during Halloween.  It’s been some time now, but Clark is still in mourning.  His depression comes and goes, as does that of mine and Laura’s, but Clark is still just a boy.  Laura and I share our grief with each other; Clark has trouble knowing how to share his grief._

_Last year, he didn’t celebrate Halloween.  He didn’t go trick-or-treating or dress up.  Much to my surprise, his friends came to our door later that evening.  Naturally, I thought to give them candy, but they came to offer Clark candy.  They were purposely greedy in taking two of everything at each door they went to.  It was beautiful proof that there are people in the world that care about my son from under another sun._

_This year, Clark decided he was going to celebrate with his friends.  It could be partially due to the “annoying amount of begging from Pete and Chloe” as Clark describes it.  I don’t know about Pete, but Chloe’s definitely able to get Clark to do things he otherwise doesn’t want to do.  Always._

_Clark’s costume was bittersweet.  I thought that he would have dressed as some sort of archer clad in red and blue.  In fact, with the sewing skills taught to him by Martha Kent, he made himself a red tunic with a hood a few years ago.  He also cross-stitches, as taught to him by his mother, but he prefers to sew._

_Anyway, I was partially right about Clark’s costume.  He dressed as an archer, but he wore a green costume.  He found one of Oliver’s old green leather jackets.  It was one of those jackets with a hood that was detachable via zipper.  With that, he strapped his bow from Diana to his back and loaded his quiver with toy arrows.  Upon my request, he left his set of throwing knives that he would have strapped to his waist and forearms out of the costume.  However, Laura took plenty of pictures with him wearing them with his friends._

_Pete Ross was dressed in football gear wearing some Metropolis quarterback’s number.  Chloe was dressed as a reporter.  At least that’s how she described it.  She had a trench coat, a fedora, nerdy glasses, a notepad and a tape recorder.  Clark deadpanned that she could’ve been a lovely princess to his green archer. She told him that he could have been editor-in-chief to her “mild-mannered reporter.”_

_Chloe Sullivan is way too outspoken and brash to be “mild-mannered.”  Intrepid is a better word to describe her.  She’s young, pretty, and spirited, but she’s no princess.  I’m starting to see her wear dresses still I wouldn’t call her a princess.  It’s not meant to be an insult; she’s just not that kind of girl._

_Anyways, I hope they have fun.  I suspect that this will be the first time that Clark has spent more than five minutes at a time with Lex Luthor.  He will have to tell me how his encounter goes._

 

The first thing that Clark notices as he drifts awake is the pounding headache.  Not the first time he’s ever had a headache, but it’s not something that he’s used to experiencing.  He feels like someone whacked him in the head with a large elephant made of kryptonite.  The next thing he notices, his wrists and ankles are bound.  He gives his wrists a little jerk.  They don’t come loose.  Finally, he notices three figures.  He recognizes them as Lois, Chloe, and Lana. 

They don’t look like them.  Similar to Lois’ outfit, Chloe and Lana are dressed in figure-hugging black dresses and boots.  They look very much like a trio of gothic, punkish beauties.  The sight is both unnerving and strangely attractive.  His ex-girlfriend’s outfit makes an ample display of the hills of her breasts and cleavage.  Not unusual for her, but still the outfit simply doesn’t suit her.  Lana…he doesn’t know what to make of her.  It’s not an outfit that he would ever see her wearing on a normal day.

He tries to recollect his thoughts.  The last thing he remembers is Lois ambushing him in the shower and her asking him where the stones of power were.  Then he remembers seeing purple smoke and two other figures, followed shortly by immense pain.  He felt as if he was being drained, like a certain amount of his essence had been sucked out of him through a straw. 

It was his powers.  It had to have been.  Why else would he not be able to break free from these chains?  He doesn’t feel the pain that comes with kryptonite, so that’s another indicator. 

“He awakens,” says Lana. 

Clark licks his lips, trying to moisten his mouth.  They have him tied up in his own garage.  His find the clock above the worktable and given the time, people should be arriving for Chloe’s birthday party in an hour.  What will they suspect when they see Clark hoisted up like this from a one of the hooks used for the air pumps?

“What have you done to me?” he asks no one in particular. 

“We had to make sure you wouldn’t be a threat when you woke up,” replies Lana.  “So we stripped you of your magics.”

Clark blinks several times.  “Magics?” he repeats.  “Sorry, but my powers a bit more complicated than that.”

“Silence, wizard,” snaps Chloe. 

He chuckles weakly as his eyes land on Chloe.  “Chlo, first of all, you know I’m not a wizard.  Second of all, if you wanted to tie me up, all you had to do was ask.”  He remembers them joking about bondage once or twice, but agreed each time that it wasn’t for them.  Both of them had already had bad experiences with being tied up; they didn’t want to introduce it to their sex life.

Chloe—at least he thinks it’s Chloe—stares up at him blankly.  “A willing prisoner or are you just a stupid boy trying to be funny?”

Clark considers his options thoughtfully.  “I’d say a bit of both.  I always enjoyed letting you be the aggressor.”    

Chloe gazes up at him thoughtfully.  “You have desires for this body, don’t you?” she walks closer to him.  Clark looks down and finally notices that he’s shirtless.  He doesn’t remember putting on a pair of pants and underwear.  Did one of these ladies do that for him?  By the involuntary cringe, he feels that he’s never felt more exposed in front of his ex-girlfriend before.  “I can see her memories.  You two loved each other very much.”  The mocking tone is making Clark want to slap her.  This is definitely not Chloe. 

“And I can see you both still have strong feelings for each other.”  Chloe has closed the distance between them now and she reaches up and settles her soft hands on Clark’s chest.

Clark tries to ignore the growing hardness in his groin.  “Who are you?  Actually, better yet, who are each of you and what have you all done with my friends?”

Lana is the one who answers as a wide grin spreads across her lips.  “I’m glad you asked.  I’m Margaret Isobel Theroux and these are my friends, Brianne and Madeline.”  She gestures to Lois and then Chloe.  “Don’t worry; your friends are still there.  They are just buried deep, deep down.”   

That prospect angers Clark greatly.  If he still had his powers, he probably would have fried something with his heat vision.  Surprisingly, he can’t decide which angers him more, Chloe being possessed…or Lois being possessed.  If he were to put it into words, he would call his relationship with Lois a bit of a love/hate relationship.  One day they are bickering and are about an inch from ripping each other’s throats out—he still remembers her punching him, even if she was the one who suffered for it.  The next day, she seems to know him better than anyone. 

Plus, he’s starting to feel like she’s pretty. 

“Brianne told me that you’ve touched at least two of the stones of power…and that you know where they are,” Lana— _Isobel_ —continues. 

Clark rolls his eyes.  “That again?  Look ladies, I don’t know what you’re talking about, so how about you cut me down and we can all just settle this over sodas?”  As soon as he finishes, Chloe— _Madeline_ —digs her nails into his chest and slowly drags them down.  He cries out as blood blooms in the wake of her fingernails. 

Tears of pain roll down his cheeks as he pants hard.  He can’t even decide if it’s sexy or terrifying as she licks his blood off her fingers.  “Chloe, Lois, please, I know you’re in there.  Please help me.”

He stares from one to the other pleadingly.  In turn, their expressions become horribly concerned and for a minute, he swears that he’s staring at his friends. 

“Clark?”

“Smallville?”

Clark lets out a shaky laugh.  However, as quickly as it came, Lois and Chloe exchange glances and they let out the most hideous laughs he ever heard.  Lana shoves past them and Clark locks eyes with her.  She does not share Lois and Chloe’s amusement.  For a minute, her expression reminds her of a time last year when he and Chloe were having relationship issues.  Eventually, they reconciled and called it a stupid argument that they never should have gotten themselves into, but it went on long enough for Lana to try and get Clark to warm up to her. 

She failed miserably and it even led to a nasty fight between her and Chloe.  Lana Lang fights dirty and Chloe a bite mark on her arm for weeks. 

Back then, Clark was unfazed by Lana’s angry looks.  Now, he feels his body tensing up, fearful of what she might actually do to him.

“I did not wait four hundred years after being persecuted and burned at the stake to listen to the lies of some strange creature,” she growls between her teeth.  “Not when all that power is within my reach.”

Clark raises an eyebrow.  All he knows about the stones is that united they become the Crystal of Knowledge.  That and the Crystal of Water could transfer the essence of the two people who touch them, like when Lionel Luthor touched him with it.

“Have you ever heard the expression ‘be careful what you wish for’?” he asks curiously.

Lana slaps him.  “If you aren’t going to give it up willingly, then I guess I’ll have to rethink my methods.”  She withdraws from him and before he can ask what she means by that, Lois and Chloe take her place.

Clark gulps as Lois stops inches away from his face. 

“You insulted me,” she informs him softly.  “I have this beautiful body and you refused me.”

“Welcome to the twenty-first century…Brianne is it?” spits Clark.  “Even if I did think with my dick, I wouldn’t take advantage of you.  Not after you cast a spell on my brother and our friend, Claire.”

Lois scoffs.  She closes the distance between them and her lips brush against his.  All things considered, her lips against his feel great.  As she forces her tongue into his mouth, he’s surprised to find out that she doesn’t taste like nicotine.  She tastes like mint.  It’s not that delicious mixture of mint and coffee that he had grown to associate with Chloe.

It’s also the most unromantic kiss he’s ever experienced.  He’s tied up, so he can’t push her away.  She continues to kiss him, pulling away once or twice to drag her tongue along the seams of his face and neck. 

Also, he feels a pair of hands work as his pants.  They are Chloe’s hands.  Within seconds, he feels his pants and underwear in a pile around his ankles and feels the soft hands of his ex-girlfriend grip his rigid member.  He stares past Lois and sees Lana watching the event thoughtfully.  She almost looks like she wants to join in.  He hopes that she does not. 

Then he feels something soft and wet upon his member.  Lois’ lips have returned to his, so he can’t bite back against the pleasure of Chloe’s tongue on him.  Finally, he feels Chloe’s lips and her mouth envelopes him.  Two pairs of hands are all over him and soon he feels Lois’ bare breasts against him as she lets her dress slide down a bit. 

When he imagined a threesome, this is not what he had in mind.  Plus, this has to be the first time that he found himself being disgusted by Chloe going down on him.  If he will be honest with himself, he recently started having fantasies of kissing Lois, but so far the real thing is proving to be a rather unpleasant experience. 

As Lois covers him in kisses, he feels the first wave of his orgasm coming.  Chloe redoubles her efforts and Clark can no longer stifle his moans.  Lois pulls away slightly and whispers something in Latin.  Then she returns her lips to his and shoves her tongue into his mouth. 

Clark has had enough of this.  He bites down on her tongue, hard.  He never closed his eyes and so he gets to see her eyes fly open and contort with pain.  She tries to pull herself away, but he bites down harder, enough to show how much he doesn’t want to be touched.  

She muffles a scream and he finally releases her tongue.  Lois pulls away from him furiously.  She doesn’t retaliate like she expects him to. 

Chloe doesn’t pull away.  She just keeps making love to him with her mouth.  Stars begin to spot his vision as his orgasm sweeps over him.  He explodes into Chloe’s mouth, but she doesn’t pull away.  She continues her ministrations until the spasms fade.  As Clark finds himself losing consciousness, he sees a purple haze seep from his mouth.

Though his lips don’t move, he hears his own voice say, “The cave.”

He barely hears Lana say, “Thank you, Clark.  You’ve been _very_ helpful.” 

***

Clark awakens to someone saying his name.  As his eyes swim into focus, he finds himself having been untied and is being cradled by Diana.   “Aunt Di,” he says weakly.  “You have no idea how happy I am to see you.”

Diana scoffs down at him.  “Just consider yourself lucky that I got here before anyone else did.  What happened?  Why did I find you dangling from the ceiling with your pants around your ankles?”

Clark blushes furiously at the idea of Diana seeing him in such a state.  He glances around.  “Where’s Oliver and Claire?” he tries to stand up. 

“They are fine, Clark,” Diana informs him as she eases him into a sitting position.  “Oliver is lying down with an icepack pressed to his head and I put Claire to bed.” 

Clark stares at her quizzically.  “You got Oliver to lie down and take things easy?” 

Diana smiles smugly.  “He did need some convincing.”

Clark would never say it to her, but sometimes he thinks his mentor sees him and Oliver as the sons she never had.  She certainly seems to blur the line between mentor and mother quite a bit. 

“So what happened?” repeats Diana. 

Clark starts from when he and Oliver got home from the Kent farm.  His unexpected visit from Lois while in the shower, Lois saying something in Latin that rendered him unconscious, and finally waking up here in this garage.  He leaves out his nonconsensual sexual experience with his best friend and her cousin. 

“So your friends are being possessed by the spirits of three dead witches and they just stole your powers?” marvels Diana. 

“I think I know what you are going to say, but I really don’t think I need to be wearing that anti-magic bracelet you gave me in my own house,” says Clark defensively.

“No, you shouldn’t have to,” agrees Diana.  “But this is Smallville, Clark!” 

Clark rolls his eyes.  “Come on, magic in Smallville?  That’s a new one, even for Smallville.”

Diana breathes hard.  “I suppose your right, but right now you need to find a way to stop these witches from doing whatever they are planning on doing.”

“I don’t have my powers; I can’t pull the drawstring on my bow,” argues Clark. 

Diana scowls and smacks him in the back of the head.  “You have your throwing knives!  And I know your father owned a shotgun.”

Clark doesn’t even massage the back of his head.  He proceeds to stand up and allows Diana to help him up.  He rushes into the house and stops by the living room to see his brother lying pitifully on one of the couches.  Oliver looks up slightly. 

“Damn, buddy, did you have sex with a lion?”

Clark notices he’s still shirtless and glances down at his chest.  Indeed, there are the ten bloody scratches left so kindly by Chloe.  “Very funny.  Listen, Oliver, I need to borrow the Ducati.”

He doesn’t normally let Clark use his motorcycle.  Still, he looks too weak to protest.  “Fine; the keys are in a coffee mug on my desk in my bedroom.  Clark, what’s going on?”

Clark is already rushing upstairs before he can explain.  He goes to Oliver’s bedroom first.  “Jeez, Oliver, is every day St. Patrick’s Day?” he wonders out loud, registering his brother’s love of green.  Green bedspread, green paraphernalia all over the place from his laptop, to his gaming controllers, his alarm clock, and even the back of his swivel chair…it’s all green.  He finds the keys right where Oliver said they would be. 

Next, Clark rushes to his bedroom.  Maybe his room isn’t much different with his love of red and blue. Still, he grabs the bracelet Diana gave him (he might actually start wearing that fulltime) and his set of throwing knives from its display above his dresser and quickly fills the belt that goes with them.  Not even bothering with a shirt, he throws on his biker jacket and boots.  Finally, he rushes to his parents’ bedroom. 

Walking into his parents’ bedroom still feels like stepping past a veil as every visit feels like he’s being weighed down by a building.  The only times he or Oliver ever come in here is once a week to keep the room from diminishing under layers of dust.  Fighting back the memories that flood his mind and the tears that blur his vision, Clark rushes to the closet and finds the case in which his father kept his shotgun.  He grabs the shotgun and quickly loads it with a few shells.  Stuffing a few extra shells in his pockets, he’s finally ready to leave.  He rushes back downstairs.  He finds Diana filling a tea kettle with water.  Stopping for a minute, they lock eyes.  Briefly, he sees a flash of sadness in her eyes. 

Has she had a bad day too?  Making a mental note to ask her about it later, he rushes out of the house.  As he approaches the Ducati, he stops.  It might get him there quicker, but how will everyone fit onto that bike?

Rolling his eyes, he selects the keys from the worktable and climbs into the SUV.  Soon, he’s on the road.  Thoughts of what those witches might do while inhabiting his friends’ bodies flood his mind.  Obviously, they seem to have some sort of desire to be extremely powerful, but what are they going to do with it?  Rule the world?  It sounds so cliché in his mind. 

People have had his powers once or twice over the years and it never ended well for them.  He has no reason to believe that it will be different for these women.  It doesn’t take him much time to get to the Kawatche Caves.  Plus, he’s sure he’s driving like a speeding maniac—although, people like Diana and Chloe have told him that he’s a great driver even when doing so—so he’s sure he shaved a few minutes off of the trip. 

He stops not far from the entrance to the caves.  Turning off the car, he grabs the shotgun and rushes out of the car.  As he enters the caves, his approach grows slower and more controlled.  Something is definitely going on.

He hears the echoes of what must be Lois, Chloe, and Lana chanting something.  He sees a bright flash of light.  Clark would very much like to go back to a world when magic was just fiction.  Determined, he completes his trek towards the hidden chamber of the caves.  Whatever they were chanting must have opened the door.  He hates going to the man for advice, but he makes a mental note to ask Jor-El if there’s a way to protect the door from being opened by magic.  Another part of him wonders if, even with his vast knowledge, if Jor-El knows anything about magic. 

Given how logical he is—and not in a fun way, like Yoda or Spock—he wouldn’t count on it.

As he approaches, he starts to hear their voices clearer.

“…the first two stones,” says Lana.  “Oh, how I’ve dreamed of this moment.”  If Clark didn’t know any better, he would think she was talking to her soul mate.  “And at last, it has arrived.”

This is getting ridiculous.  Clark enters the chamber and cocks the shotgun.  “Not quite.”

Lana looks up and smirks.  Straightening up, she says, “You shouldn’t have come, Clark.”

Clark sneers.

“Silly boy,” adds Chloe-Madeline, shaking her head and smiling. 

Clark rounds on her.  “Don’t you dare say that,” he growls.  The last time Chloe said that and in that tone, they were enjoying a hot afternoon at a secluded lake in West Virginia with no clothes on.  Fond memory and not one that he will let some witch ruin.

She only smiles wider. 

“We owe you a debt of gratitude for revealing this chamber to us,” explains Lana, actually _sounding_ grateful through the contemptuous venom.  “We were going to let you live.”

“Sorry, Lana, but I can’t let you do this,” apologizes Clark. 

“You don’t have a choice!” snaps Lois.  He sees her hand glow purple and she swings her arm sideways.  From the vibration in his bracelet with Amazonian symbols on it, he suspects that that was supposed to do something.

From the looks of shock upon Lois, Chloe, and Lana’s faces, he figures it was. 

“How are you resisting our magic?” demands Lois.

Clark smiles sweetly.  “You have your tricks, I have mine.”  He aims the shotgun at Lana.  “I really don’t want to hurt any of you.” 

Lana scoffs.  “You won’t be able to.”  She reaches out again and grabs one of the stones.  Her triumphant look is cut short, quickly being replaced by that of pain. 

“How ironic,” Clark deadpans. 

Whatever sensation the stone caused forces Lana to lose her grip and she drops it.  Clark drops his father’s shotgun and dives for the stone before anyone else can grab it.  As he catches it, he feels all his senses and pretty much everything about him heighten. 

Lana and Chloe look positively defeated. 

“His powers are restored,” says Lois in awe.

“How?” adds Chloe.

“I’m not from around here,” Clark explains tiredly as he approaches the pedestal. 

“It doesn’t matter,” says Lana confidently.  “We took them from you once before, do you really think this time will be any different?”

Clark smiles thoughtfully.  “I’m counting on it.”  He selects a knife from his belt quicker than humanly possible, heats it until it is red-hot with his heat vision and throws it expertly.  It lands in Lana’s spellbook and it immediately erupts in flames.  As the book becomes a block of purple glow and flame, a bunch of light erupts from it. 

It must be all the magic that was stored within it. 

“ _NO_!” screams Lana. 

Then everything goes white and Clark blacks out. 

When comes to, he finds himself on the ground—outside the chamber and sees his friends are in a similar condition as he.  Quickly he rises to his feet as his friends regain consciousness. 

“Why are we lying in the dirt?” asks Lois.  Sounds like Lois.

Chloe looks down at herself and her lips curl in disgust.  Clark hopes she doesn’t vomit.  “And what the hell are we wearing?” she asks.  That sounds like his best friend/ex-girlfriend.

Lana says nothing as she looks around at the cave and then up at Clark.  He ignores her.

“Are you okay?” he asks no one in particular.

Lana gazes up at him.  “Clark, what happened?”

He registers her look and then the looks of Lois and Chloe as they stare from him to their lewd outfits.  “Let’s just say that none of you have been yourselves lately.”

“Does that have anything to do with the bad-boy getup?” asks Lois. 

Clark looks down at himself.  His black leather biker jacket is hanging open slightly and he still has all his knives, plus he sees the knife that he used for the spellbook and his father’s shotgun not far off. 

“Would you three believe me if I told you that you were all possessed by seventeenth-century witches…an hour ago?” he asks, looking down at his watch.  It’s brief, but he swears he sees hints of recognition in each of their faces. 

Chloe is the one who speaks up.  “Well, this is Smallville.  Anything can happen.”  She frowns suddenly.  “Oh, God, did I miss my own birthday party?”

Clark sighs sympathetically.  “How about we all just go back to my house, order pizza and we can just celebrate among friends?  Claire will be there,” he adds, speaking specifically to Lois and Chloe.  Their smiles widen until it almost hurts to look at. 

“Awesome!” exclaims Chloe.  “But, first I think I speak for all three of us ladies when I say that I’d like to change out of these.”  Lana and Lois murmur their agreement. 

“Well then, let’s go,” suggests Clark.  He walks past them.  Without meaning to, he finds himself avoiding touching Lois or Chloe.  It wasn’t them, not really, but his unpleasant experience with them is burned into his memory.

He will try to not show just how awkward he feels the rest of this evening. 

***

A few weeks pass and Clark still feels uncomfortable.  Lois and Chloe were invited to attend Thanksgiving dinner with Clark, Oliver, and the Kents.  Other than making sure that he wasn’t sitting next to Lois or Chloe, it was a pleasant dinner.  It was certainly happier than he had had in a few years.  He and Oliver made each other blush by sharing how grateful they were to be back in each other’s lives. 

Lois surprised Clark by sharing how grateful she was for the friendship of him and Oliver.  He had no idea that she enjoyed spending time with them so much.

Chloe was thankful for Clark’s unwavering friendship and for her cousin, Lois.

The Kents were thankful for their daughter Claire; making ends meet, and having a great harvest and simply having each other in their lives. 

Clark wonders if he will ever have such a strong relationship as them.  Once upon a time, he thought that he would have had that with Chloe, but she called off their romance.  Maybe that’s what she meant by their “unwavering friendship.”  They still spend time together, have one-on-one time, and share just about everything with each other. 

November has faded into December and Clark feels ashamed of himself.  He speaks to Chloe and Lois, but he also knows them to be very perceptive.  No doubt, they have both noticed the emotional and physical barrier he’s put between them both. 

It’s probably why he isn’t surprised when Lois ambushes him while doing homework up in the loft. 

“I don’t care too much that you’ve been avoiding me, but you’re really hurting Chloe,” admonishes Lois. 

Clark courageously ignores her as he figures out how to put a group of Shakespearean sonnets into simpler words.  “In case you can’t see, Lois, I’m a bit busy.”

Before he can stop her, Lois closes the distance and yanks his textbook out of his lap. 

Clark scowls up at her.  “I need that.”

Lois smirks down at him.  “Okay, but first we need to talk.  Chloe is starting to think that your relationship with her has become…perfunctory.”

Clark narrows his eyes.  “Our relationship is _not_ perfunctory!”

“Then why are you avoiding her so much?” demands Lois.  “Why are you…?” her voice falters.  “Why are you avoiding me?”

Clark cocks his head.  He doesn’t remember Lois sounding _this_ vulnerable.  He tries to say this as gently as possible.  “A few minutes ago, you said you didn’t care that I was avoiding you.”

Lois stammers and shakes her head.  Finally she rolls her eyes and plops down beside Clark on the couch, dropping the textbook and rubbing her eyes.  “You’re not a complete pain to spend time with,” she says eventually.

Clark frowns.  “Thanks, I think.” 

“Did something happen, Clark?” asks Lois.  She lowers her hands and stares hard into his eyes.  “Chloe and I argued who would ask this—neither of us wanted to—did something happen between the three of us on Chloe’s birthday?”

Clark tears his gaze away from Lois.  “I don’t know how to say this, but…” the next words feel like thumbtacks.  “You two…raped me.”  Also, he hopes she doesn't remember ambushing him in the shower.  He's not sure if she would enjoy the prospect of him knowing what at least the front of her body looks like.  

Lois is silent for several minutes.  The only sound is the heater as it comes on during their conversation.  Clark doesn’t need it, but it’s still good to keep the place warm for everyone else.  Eventually, he feels a hand cup his.  A sharp intake of breath enters his lips.  The memories of what happened become fresh on his mind again.  Surprisingly, just as quickly, as Lois' hand remains ever so gentle, he feels himself begin to relax.  He mind and body must be accepting that he's being touched by a friend, not by someone trying to take advantage him.  

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers. 

“Don’t be,” he brushes off. “You were all possessed by witches.” 

“Shut up, Smallville.”

Clark returns his gaze to her.

Lois’ shoulders rise and fall as she inhales and exhales.  “Chloe and I can’t change what happened, but I think you owe it to us both to not keep ignoring us like this.  In case you haven’t noticed, but Chloe gets pretty lonely without you around.  So, why don’t you just grow a pair, tell her what you just told me, and just go back to being the best of friends that I’ve ever seen?”

Clark blinks several times.  “And where do you fit into that equation?”

Lois thinks about it for a minute to two.  “Take me out on a date.”

Clark feels his cheeks turn a deep shade of scarlet.  “Excuse me?”

Lois looks confident, but it does little to mask the underlying shyness.  “Look Clark, you and I really don’t know much about each other.  We don’t have to kiss or hold hands; we can just get to know each other better.”

“You’re Chloe’s cousin,” Clark reminds her.  “I’m sorry, but there seems to be something horribly wrong with dating my ex-girlfriend’s cousin.

Lois nods a bit.  “I agree; Chloe was the one who suggested it.  Yeah, I know,” she adds, registering his flabbergasted look.  “On the upside, I’d like to think I’d be a better choice than my little sister, Lucy.  She’s a bitch.”

Clark has only heard the name Lucy from Chloe, but for a while he thought Chloe was being too harsh when she called Lucy a bitch.  If Lois is saying the same thing, then maybe there’s some truth to it. 

Lois sighs again as she stands up.  “Look Clark, I’m about as uncomfortable with this as you are.  I’ll tell you what.  Go on this one date with me.  If we end up not enjoying spending time together, then we won’t go on a date again.  Deal?”

Clark thinks it over briefly.  Lois is doing her best to sound like Lois—suave, confident, and unwaveringly brash—but her eyes give away her emotions.  The hopeful quality suggests that she’s been waiting to get this out in the open long before Chloe encouraged her to do so. 

“Next Saturday, seven p.m.,” says Clark.  “Don’t wear anything too fancy; I’m tired of women thinking that they have to wear something ‘expensive’ in order to impress me.”  He didn’t tell Chloe that on their first official date back during freshman year, but by that time she knew him well enough that all he cared about was the effort, not the amount of money spent. 

Clark doesn’t think he will ever know if she tried to suppress it, but one of the most gorgeous smiles spreads across Lois’ face.  “I’ll see you then, Smallville.”  With that, she turns and heads towards the stairs out of the loft.

Clark sure hopes he’s not betraying his best friend with this.  Perhaps it would be a bigger betrayal if he had turned Lois down after Chloe encouraged her to ask him out.  Either way, if this turns out well for him, he hopes that he can find a way to make this a good kind of different from his relationship with Chloe. 

His romantic relationship with Chloe will always be a one of his favorite memories.  Perhaps a new, different kind of special romance is closer than he thought. 

Whether this first date goes well or not, he doesn’t want to pass up that opportunity. 

“Here goes nothing,” Clark mutters. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long, but next weekend, Clois will have their first date. Stay tuned. Personally, I think this is more of a Chlark quote, but I hope that it will be worth the wait.


	30. Chapter Twenty-Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. I probably won't be posting another chapter until the weekend. I just put a lot of thought into this chapter. Plus after the length of this chapter, I’m a bit tired of writing for one week. I hope everyone enjoys!

_December 17 th, 2000_

_Clark had two recitals recently.  One was for piano and the other for ballet.  He did wonderfully at both.  I can say that those are two things that Clark has no reservations about.  He usually tries not to draw attention to himself (though at the same time, he’s far from shy) but if there’s a piano, or an opportunity to dance, he shows what he can do._

_Clark played a rather complicated piece by Bach that made full use of counterpoint and it won him a trophy.  He didn’t care about the award; all he cared about was just playing the piano, letting the music flow out of him._

_Clark also did really well with his ballet recital.  It was an excerpt from_ Othello _and he played the titular character.  Lana Lang was his dance partner.  Clark does think that Lana Lang is very pretty, but not in any romantic sense.  He might never share with me who he has a crush on.  Based on what I’ve seen, he spends a lot of time staring at Chloe.  It seems rather mutual.  In fact, Chloe was invited to the recital, and she seemed quite jealous of Lana._

_She looked close to storming up there and beating Miss Lang to death with her program.  Not that I promote violence, but I think that would have been an entertaining sight._

_Chloe is a bit of a skilled dancer herself.  She doesn’t share Clark’s interest in ballet, but she has done tango with him and she can keep up with a waltz._

_Clark did have a date recently.  I would have thought that he had gone out with Chloe, but he later said that he wasn’t sure he was good enough for her.  Did I ever feel that way before I took Laura out for the first time?  Laura was born into a rich family and I am a self-made billionaire.  I still get called “new money” with some crowds.  At least Lionel Luthor and I are in the same boat in that regard, although he’s less tolerant to insult._

_So Clark went out with a fellow society girl.  Blair Waldorf.  She’s cute and she’s a “ninety-five-pound, doe-eyed, bon mas-tossing, label-whoring package of girly evil” as Chloe so explicitly described.  She and her mother were visiting from the Upper East Side of Manhattan and the flamboyant girl coerced Clark into asking her out.  Maybe it’s because we living in a farming community, maybe it’s because of how Laura and I raised him, but Clark didn’t take her someplace ridiculously fancy.  In fact, I think he tried to get her sick._

_He told her to dress warm, packed some hot chocolate in a thermos and took her to a pond about a twenty-minute hike away from the house.  Personally, I thought that it was a good idea of a date.  He surprised her with skates.  The pond was frozen and he wanted to take her skating._

_Being a city girl, Miss Waldorf didn’t find skating “in the middle of nowhere” to be a fun activity.  It’s something that Chloe would have enjoyed.  Also, I think Clark suspected that Miss Waldorf wasn’t going to have a good time.  It was a rather lousy first date, but Clark enjoyed himself._

_He said he tried to get Miss Waldorf to join him on the ice, even showing her how he incorporated his dancing skills into ice skating.  Miss Waldorf wasn’t going to have any of it.  The sounds of nature frightened her.  The lack of any audible traffic made her feel that she was in solitary confinement.  Finally, she called Clark a weirdo and that he should have taken her to the nicest French restaurant in Metropolis._

_In terms of ethnic foods, Clark enjoys French food the least.  Not that he finds any of it disgusting; he simply finds it too easy a choice.  His favorite restaurants to go to are Indian restaurants.  Some of it is too spicy for me._

_Blair’s mother and my wife had themselves a lovely little chat, even reaching an investment agreement.  Blair didn’t enjoy too much.  She was only too happy to get out of Smallville._

_Maybe Clark’s second date won’t be so disappointing.  I do suspect that Clark won’t be the rich boy who takes young ladies out to places most people can’t afford on the first date.  I actually admire that quality.  And I know that one day the right girl will enjoy that quality as well._

“That’s it, Chloe, I’m calling off this date,” Lois says abruptly. 

Chloe, sitting on her bed, rolls her eyes at her cousin’s back.  “Really?  After you pretty much coerced him into asking you out?” a part of her will probably always be appalled at the idea, but she doesn’t want to keep Clark from dating anyone.

Lois whips around and crosses her arms.  “ _You_ were the one who said I should ask him out.”

Chloe shrugs.  “He’s not a bad choice.”

Lois scoffs.  “Chloe, the day I start dating my cousin’s exes will be the day hell freezes over.”

“Then let it freeze over,” Chloe fires back. 

She can feel her cousin studying her.  It’s the more subtle part of her that Chloe feels would make her a great reporter.  Lois can be brash and impulsive, but she can also spend hours evaluating you without saying a word.  Her gaze softens and she comes over to sit beside Chloe, shoving aside some discarded clothing options for her date to male room. 

“Chloe, isn’t there even a small part of you that hates me for this?” Lois asks gently.  “You and Clark Queen were inseparable for two years—maybe even longer, but were too stupid to call it dating—and now you’re suggesting that _I_ of all people ask him out?  What next?  You have a husband, divorce him, and suggest that I marry the dude?”

Chloe grimaces at the idea.  “I wouldn’t go that far.”  To be truthful, she does hate this idea.  She hates it a lot.  In fact, earlier this week, mostly due to Lois’ suggestion, she punched her as hard as she could in the gut.  She was immediately apologetic, and Lois was asking why the stomach and not the face.  Chloe didn’t want her to have a black eye on her date. 

Lois reminded her that she had had a black eye on at least one of her dates with Clark.  That’s perfectly true.  Last year, Chloe had a brawl with Lana Lang and Lana had already given Chloe a black eye before she tried to ax-murder her.

Still at the same time, Chloe would rather it be Lois that went out with Clark.  To some degree, she would like to think that a part of her is still with Clark.  Lois is a reporter, though she doesn’t like the idea of journalism right now, and she shares Chloe’s passion for hunting down stories.  However, Lois hasn’t learned to put a monitor on the stories she hunts down. 

Chloe hopes her cousin doesn’t learn that the hard way like she did.

“Lois, you’re hot, you’re funny, you’re smart, you’re feisty…all qualities that Clark loves,” Chloe says finally. 

Lois curls her lip.  “I’ll never be as hot as you and you’re destined for better things than me.”

Chloe allows herself a smile at her cousin’s vote of confidence.  “Yes, I hope to be a Pulitzer Prize-winning reporter for the Daily Planet, or even Editor-in-Chief, but at least one of the Pulitzers also has your name on it.  And I wouldn’t call you less hot than me.”

Lois raises her eyebrows skeptically. 

“You’re just a different kind of hot,” Chloe offers with a smile. 

Lois stares at her a little bit longer, but a smile eventually spreads across her face.  “You really want me to do this, don’t you?”

A smile spreads across Chloe’s lips, trying her best not to show the underlying sadness.  At least, Lois cares about her feelings.  It would actually feel like a betrayal if Lois was just some bitch who picked up Clark without even considering what Chloe thought about it. 

Either way, this all still feels like a huge crime against girl code.

“Well, can you help me with my hair?” asks Lois. 

Chloe looks over her cousin’s dyed hair thoughtfully.  She hasn’t grown her hair past her shoulders since her mother fell out of the picture.  Lois has always looked great with longer hair, and Chloe likes how she does her bangs.  Right now, Lois’ hair has some loose waves in it and for the last twenty minutes, she’s been trying to decide which elegant knot or bun to style it into. 

Privately, Chloe was amused when Lois came to her, telling her how surprised she was by Clark’s “nothing too fancy” request in terms of what to wear.  When they dated, Clark and Chloe went through a bit of a cycle when it came to their dates.  One date it would be casual, next it would be semi-formal, finally it would be very formal, and it wasn’t always in that order.  It kept things light between them without obsessing what they wore on their dates.

If things go well for them, Chloe will let Lois figure that out for herself.  They might even come up with their own routines. 

“Actually, your hair looks great just the way it is,” Chloe tells her cousin confidently.

Lois raises an eyebrow.  “How do I know you aren’t trying to set me up for failure?”

Chloe frowns indignantly.  “Lois, don’t you know?  I have terrible poker face where you are concerned.  But I will tell you that you could use a breath mint.”

Lois exhales into her hand and sniffs.  She wrinkles her nose.  Then they both start giggling. 

Just then, the doorbell rings.  _That can’t be Clark,_ Chloe thinks.  Lois insisted on meeting him at _his_ house.  Her dad’s not home, so he’s not going to answer.

Without exchanging words, the cousins get up and head downstairs.  They become a little quicker as the knocking becomes more insistent.  Finally, Chloe reaches the door and opens up.  She immediately straightens up. 

“Uncle Sam,” she greets at the same time Lois says, “Daddy.”

“Chloe, how are you?” the cigar-smoking general asks warmly. 

“Uh, I’m doing great,” Chloe replies with a nervous smile.  “What brings you here?”

Her Uncle Sam looks past her, his eyes landing on Lois.  “I wanted to speak with Lois.”

Lois grumbles behind her and Chloe would like nothing more than to run as far away as possible.  Lois and Uncle Sam interacting has always been a recipe for trouble and Chloe hates getting caught in the middle of it, in this case literally. 

“Can it wait, Daddy?” Lois asks dispassionately.  “I have a date.”

Chloe backs away quietly, walking backwards and hoping she doesn’t run into anything.  When she reaches a safe distance, she walks back upstairs.  Even upstairs, she can hear her cousin and uncle. 

“You have a date?” asks Uncle Sam or _the general_ as he’s known as when Lois is around. 

“Yes, I do,” confirms Lois.  “Shocking, isn’t it?  So as much as I’d love to chat, I’d rather not be late.”

Chloe hears the sound of walking and she assumes Lois is trying to step past her father. 

“Who are you going out with?” asks the general, though it sounds more like a demand. 

“None of your business, Daddy,” Lois fires back.  “Now excuse me.”

“I asked you a question and I expect an answer, Lo.”

“This is getting ugly,” Chloe moans from the bathroom adjacent to the stairs. 

In an effort to distract herself with other thoughts, she thinks about how things have been with Clark this past week.  They had a chat together at the Talon.  Clark finally explained why he had been so distant with her lately.  Listening to his tale of when she was possessed by that witch, clawing and raping him, she felt so dirty, so ashamed of herself. 

For the first time, she felt appalled having taking Clark in her mouth.  She hopes she didn’t damage her teeth from brushing them over and over again.  Her dad stopped her before she went through the whole tube of toothpaste. 

On the upside, having shared what occurred between them, Clark seems to be carrying less weight around.  He’s always carrying an unfair amount of weight—it’s not his fault; he’s an alien trying to be human.  Still, Chloe is happy that their relationship has returned to normal, or at least what’s considered normal these days.  She longs for the day that they can both not look at each other without the slightest temptation to kiss. 

When he finished telling her what happened, Chloe cupped his hand in hers—she hopes that that can be considered platonic if done right—and asked him how she could make up for it.

Clark gave her a thoughtful look.  He told her that they could reestablish their movie nights.  Chloe was up for that; that innocent activity has been inconsistent lately.

“Daddy, what’s your problem with Clark Queen?” demands Lois loudly, pulling Chloe from her thoughts.

“Lower your voice, young lady,” the general commands dangerously.

“Daddy, does Clark Queen have a record?” asks Lois.

Chloe can answer that.  No, he does not. 

“Is he a terrorist?”

Chloe hopes he isn’t. 

“Something about him is off,” the general says.  “I’ve gone with my gut, I always have.  And usually that gut hasn’t let me down.”

Chloe could say that her cousin inherited that trait.

“But, Daddy, what if this is one of those times that your gut is _wrong_?” Lois challenges.  “Oh, look at that, I’m running late, thank you very much.”

“Lois La…”

“Daddy, if you have a problem with me going on _one_ date with some blue-eyed, ridiculously handsome billionaire then you can _kiss my ass_!” screams Lois with finale.  Lastly, Chloe hears the door slam.  She doesn’t hear her uncle, so she assumes that he is following after her. 

Chloe gulps.  Lois just threw down the gauntlet with her dad.  In all her memory, that usually ended quite poorly for Lois.  One of those times, Chloe remembers, Lois was forced to endure cold-water training.  Growing up an army brat, Lois trained occasionally with Army, Navy, and even Marines from time to time.  Sometimes those training sessions were the result of wrongdoings.  That intensified following the death of Lois’ mother.  Chloe misses her aunt. 

She also hopes that the consequences for this particular _kiss my ass_ from Lois isn’t too severe.  There will definitely be consequences—there always are—but she can still hope.  Plus, she sure hopes that her Uncle Sam keeps his hands off of Clark.  Things might get ugly.  Clark would go quietly due to wanting to keep his identity secret, but Chloe can’t say the same for herself.  Or even Oliver for that matter, now that he’s back in the picture.

***

“So let me get this straight, you told Lois to ‘not wear anything too fancy’?” asks Tess incredulously. 

Clark didn’t know what to think when his brother’s girlfriend insisted on helping him decide what to wear for his date.  His last first date was with Chloe, so it’s been a while.  Plus, back then, he had his mother to offer him advice.  He and Tess don’t know each other very well—something that they very much want to remedy, maybe over bowling or pizza or both—but perhaps it is nice that she offered.

In the ten minutes since, they can’t seem to agree on which shirt he ought to wear.  They went through all of his red and blue sweaters, his black sweaters, even a zip-up black and white sweater that he particularly liked, and they are just about nowhere. 

“This is a first date,” Clark explains.  “I’d like to get to know her better before things get too formal.”

“What’s wrong with a formal first date?” asks Tess curiously, coming to take a seat beside him. 

Clark regards her thoughtfully.  Today, she’s dressed in a cream off-shoulder sweater with her white slacks.  The outfit really brings out her wavy red hair which she has in something of a loose ponytail draped around her shoulder.  Plus, her eye shadow brings out her green eyes.  All in all, she’s a vision of loveliness.  Clark keeps thinking that his brother had better be good to her. 

He remembers his mother saying once that rich, beautiful women tend to have agendas.  If there’s truth to his mother’s cynicism—even if she was being comical when she said it—he does wonder what Tess’s agenda could be.  If she has one, that is. 

“Say that I did call for a formal first date,” Clark begins hypothetically.  “I dress up, my date dresses up, and we both end up regretting what we chose to wear.  Not that either of us would find the other’s outfit hideous, but we just end up feeling like we made the wrong choice.  Has that ever happened to you?”

Tess blinks at him several times.  She removes her gaze from him and raises her eyebrows.  “Now that I think of it…” she begins, trailing off.

“I’d like to get to know someone before we dress up for each other,” Clark says.  “I’m sure Lois would have looked quite beautiful if I told her that it was going to be a formal date.  However, I’ve known her long enough to see that she doesn’t like wearing dresses and I didn’t want to make things _that_ tense for her.”

Tess inclines her head approvingly.  “Well aren’t you just too thoughtful.”

Clark shrugs.  “My mother nagged me a lot.”

Tess giggles and he giggles with her.

“When Chloe and I dated, we tried to monitor how much tension there was between us,” Clark explains reminiscently.  “One date we’d dress up formally, next date casually, next somewhere in between and then of course there were the society events that she attended with me when things got _very_ formal.”

Tess raises an eyebrow thoughtfully.  “Hmm, I might just bring that idea up with your brother.”

Clark narrows his eyes.  “These last few months, I wish I had a video camera for every time that Oliver drove himself crazy trying to figure out what to wear on your dates.  ‘Does my hair look okay?  Does my breath smell?  Did I miss a spot with the lint roller?’”

Tess bends over laughing and Clark laughs with her.  If only Oliver was in the room so that they could see his face.  Clark loves teasing his brother.  Yet he’s just as bad at remembering to just laugh when the joke’s on him.

“Okay,” Tess says, rising to her feet.  She walks over to the closet and begins sifting through Clark’s shirts again.  “Ooh, how about this sweater?” she reemerges with another sweater and Clark’s heart sinks.  Getting up quietly, he walks over to look at the sweater more carefully. 

It’s a dark blue V-neck sweater mottled with black all over.  The cuffs are a little long so when he wears it, the cuffs cover most of his fingers.  He gently, reverently takes the sweater from Tess. 

Probably noticing the sudden shift in his demeanor, Tess frowns.  “Is there something wrong?”

Clark smiles sadly.  “This was the last sweater my mom ever got me,” he replies softly, as if there is a sleeping infant in the room.  “The Christmas before my parents died, my mom got everyone similar sweaters, as she wanted a themed family photo.  By that time, I think we got used to there just being the three of us in the family photo.  Or at least we all got good at pretending we had overcome Oliver’s disappearance.

“It was a great Christmas,” Clark continues as tears break loose.  “Each of us got awesome gifts, we had dinner with the Kents, and I did _not_ kiss Chloe under the mistletoe.”

Tess laughs abruptly.  “What?  Why?”

Clark shrugs, smirking through his tears.  “It’s a silly tradition.  Chloe did wait for me under the mistletoe, but I told her that I couldn’t kiss her.  So, she grabbed the mistletoe and tossed it behind me.”

Tess shakes her head.  “Aren’t you just full of surprises?”  However, the humor soon dies.  Gently, she reaches up and places her hands on Clark’s shoulders.  “I wish like hell there was something I could do to ease yours and Oliver’s pain over losing your parents.  Keeping good memories like that is what keeps them close to you.  And if you wear this shirt, you can take a good memory and let it help build a new good memory.”

Clark shakes his head.  “When did you get so wise?”

Tess shrugs as a smug smile spreads across her lips.  “I have two queens on the same side of the chessboard.  It seems by managing one I had to learn how to manage the other.”

A minute of silent passes between them, but soon the doorbell rings. 

“That would be Lois,” Tess informs, stating the obvious. 

Clark takes the shirt and pulls it on over his head, stopping to smooth his hair with his fingers as he heads out of his bedroom.  As he reaches the door, he stops and turns back to Tess.

“By the way, you help a ton just by being Oliver’s girlfriend,” he tells her reassuringly. 

Tess’s eyes twinkle as she catches up to follow him out the door.  Together, they head through the house and as they reach the stairs, Clark stops as his eyes find Lois. 

He’s not sure what to make of her.  Unlike him, she’s not immune to the cold, so she’s wearing a tan buttoned shearling coat with fluffy cuffs and collar.  A dark purple silk scarf is wrapped several times around her neck, with the rest tucked safely inside of her coat.  Over her jeans, she’s wearing a pair of faded black high-heeled boots with buckles at the top. 

Her hair falls in loose waves behind her back and around her shoulders.  Knowing her, he’s surprised to not even see it in so much as a half-up do. 

“Are you going to take me out, or are you just going to keep staring at me?” demands Lois, placing her gloved hands on her hips.

Clark hears Tess stifling a few giggles. 

“Which would you prefer?” he challenges as he walks down the stairs. 

“I’m hungry,” replies Lois. 

“Aren’t you always?” Clark mutters softly.  Lois eats more than most girls he knows.  Where does she store all that food?  He heads over to the closet to grab his own coat.  Of course, he doesn’t need it, but he doesn’t need Lois wondering why he’s not wearing a coat in thirty-degree weather either. 

Feeling compelled to match his date he selects his own shearling coat.  It was a gift from Chloe, but that’s okay, isn’t it?  He also selects a blue silk scarf and wraps it stylishly around his neck.

“Ready to go?” he asks.

“Who’s driving?” Lois fires back.

“You don’t know where we’re going; I’m driving.”  He allows himself a smile as Lois grumbles. 

“Please don’t kill each other before dessert,” Oliver calls out, coming from the kitchen with bowls of ice cream.  He hands one to Tess.  She accepts it graciously.

Clark is almost jealous of their more domestic date.  At the same time, considering the looks they have been giving each other, it might be best if he’s out of the house for the next few hours.  He grabs his keys out of the bowl next to the front door and offers his arm. 

“It’s poisonous,” he promises, registering her suspicious look. 

Still she doesn’t wrap her hand around his arm. 

“Suit yourself.”  Together, they head over to the garage and Clark punches in the code and waits for the garage door to open.  When it reaches halfway, Lois bends down and heads inside.  Clark presses the button on his car remote and the doors of the Cadillac unlock.  He was going to open the passenger door for her, but she is already in the car, gesturing for him to hurry in and heat up the car. 

Clark takes his time as he closes the distance to his car.  As soon as he gets in and starts the car, he puts the heater on full blast for Lois.  She reaches for the radio, but he smacks her hand away, gently.

“Ah-ah-ah, driver controls the stereo,” he informs her.  “Your rule, not mine,” he adds, as she glares indignantly.  Besides, he’s tired of listening to all those classic rock stations whenever he ends up riding with her in her car. 

He turns on the radio and selects an alternative rock station.  As soon as he is on the road, the only sound in the car is the radio.  As he drives, Clark tries to figure out what to say to start a conversation.  He usually doesn’t suffer from this problem.  And why is he so nervous?  Why isn’t he as nervous as he thinks he should be?  Putting those two questions together, Clark feels like the opening prose to _A Tale of Two Cities._ Great book, but it took dedication.

He finally breaks the silence, but Lois does so simultaneously.

“So what do you…?”

“So where are you…?”

They both stop midsentence and exchange a brief awkward glance. 

“Ladies first,” Clark invites.

“So where are you taking me?” asks Lois. 

“Metropolis,” replies Clark.  “I love my home, but it doesn’t have everything.  As for the particular restaurant…just wait.”

Lois scoffs.  “Fine.  Your turn.”

“What do you, or what is it like growing up an army brat?” asks Clark. 

Lois is silent for several minutes.  “I get the feeling we’re going to get to know each other before we even get to Metropolis, aren’t we?” the question didn’t really seem directed at him.  “It was lonely to say the least.  Especially after my mother died, my life felt like a perpetual boot camp.  Like a recruit, I found myself toughening up in every possible manner.  It sure didn’t help that my father isn’t the most emotionally supportive man in the world.  The only times he really spoke to me was when he disciplined me. 

“Moving from place to place, from base to base, I learned to not get close to people.”

“Because it made it less difficult to leave them behind,” Clark sums up.

His eyes flick towards her briefly and he sees her hiding a smile.  “Yeah, something like that.”

“Did you have any friends?” asks Clark.

“There were a few here and there, but mostly they were fellow military brats,” replies Lois.  “Sometimes if I was very, very lucky, some of those friends ended up being transferred to the same base as I was.  Still, if I had a friend, or if I managed to find myself a date, I learned to accept that it wouldn’t last.”   

“What’s the longest you ever spent at one base?”

“Three years; it was actually a base here in Kansas.” 

Clark raises an eyebrow.  “You mean that abandoned base near Reever Dam?” asks Clark.

“The one and only,” confirms Lois.  “Now enough talk about me.  What about you?”

“I’m an open book,” Clark invites.  As soon as it’s out of his mouth, he regrets it. 

“Um, what were your parents like?” asks Lois, sounding uncharacteristically gentle.

Clark swallows hard.  It’s not the first time she has asked that question.  The first time, they just started talking and the subject never really came up.  Truth be told, Clark isn’t sure he has emotional power to talk about his parents yet, especially not with someone who is still something of a stranger to him.  At least, for someone with the spirit of a reporter who will dig herself all the way to China with her hands to get a story, she’s keeping her curiosity in check. 

He inhales and exhales slowly and maybe a little shakily.  “Save that question for Metropolis, otherwise we’ll run out of things to talk about.”

“Okay, I guess,” says Lois softly.  “Ooh, I like this song.”

“Actually, I’d like to switch stations,” Clark protests.  He reaches for the dial, but Lois bats his hand away.  He rolls his eyes and continues driving.

_I open my eyes_

_I try to see but I’m blinded by the white light_

_I can’t remember how_

_I can’t remember why_

_I’m lying here tonight_

Clark tries very hard not to let the song get to him.  He promised himself that he would have a lovely evening with Lois Lane, but how long will it be before he can invite her past all the walls that he put up around himself.  His heritage and abilities aside, talking about his parents brings up everything that he has tried so hard to push to the back of his mind.  If he starts talking about them, everything that occurred the last day he saw them alive would replay in his mind on repeat and it would be hours before he can find the stop button.

_How could this happen to me?_

_I made my mistakes_

_I’ve got nowhere to run_

_The night goes on_

_As I’m fading away_

_I’m sick of this life_

_I just wanna scream_

_How could this happen to me?_

It seems awfully distant, but Clark hears Lois say his name somewhere.  She turns down the radio.

“You’re crying,” she says.

Clark suppresses his immediate reply of “How observant of you _._ ”  Instead he says, “Do you want to drive?”

Lois gapes at him.  “Seriously?”

“The offer’s about to expire,” Clark warns. 

“Yes!” she exclaims. 

Clark pulls over and they get out and switch seats. 

“Just please don’t get us a speeding ticket,” he pleads. 

“No problem.”  She actually sounds sincere.

Once they are on the road again, Clark says, “So about my parents, I’ll tell you about them.”

He can tell Lois is listening very intently as speaks.  Tears like Niagara Falls roll down his cheeks as he talks about his parents.  Lois interjects once in a while to remind him to take his time. 

His father, Robert Queen, at least to him, was the sweetest man in the world.  That position might be closely rivaled with Jonathan Kent, his godfather, but that’s how he sees it.  Robert Queen was the man who always made sure that there was a Christmas tree of varying size in every room of the house.  He even made sure there were red and blue lights for Clark’s tree and green lights for Oliver’s tree. 

Despite being a very busy man, he always made sure he made it to special occasions and when he didn’t, he would overcompensate.  Many of those overcompensations had everyone cringing at first, but in the end, they were happy that he was willing to make such an effort. 

In stark contrast to Lionel Luthor’s parenting methods, Robert Queen raised Clark and his brother to recognize that everyone is afraid of something.  Fear is something everyone suffers despite their best efforts.  Opposed to Lionel’s _Luthors have no fear_ philosophy, Robert taught Clark and his brother that they need to recognize their fears and learn not to rid themselves of them, but to constantly find ways to combat them and push through. 

Clark laughs as he tells Lois of all crazy gifts that their father gave them over the years.  He and their mother didn’t give them everything they asked for, but on birthdays, Christmas, and Easter the gifts were always amazing. 

He was a shrewd businessman who often compared business to chess. 

You had your business ventures—your pawns—when you would offer small deals to the person you were attempting to bargain with.  Then they might come and knock down your pawn with what they felt was a better deal.  Clark can’t remember all of how his father explained it, but he does remember him saying that the rolls of each of your chess pieces were susceptible to change depending on what you did and how you did it.  Your queen could easily be you hitting everything in every direction you’re open to and the business itself could be your king, the most important piece on the board. 

His father called business a game of chess without the checkmate.  Checkmate came when the other business was forced to back down or went bankrupt and was forced to discontinue.  Clark remembers that happening to a few businesses.  Oftentimes, it could be considered a chess game with a perpetual stalemate.  Both sides having plenty of firepower, but can’t make a move without losing too much in the process. 

Lois asks if it was “checkmate” when the opposing sides reached an agreement. 

It is a checkmate, but it’s one that ends with both players reaching across the table and shaking hands. 

When Clark starts talking about his mother, instead of seeing fire and combusting flesh, he sees his mother’s smile and he can swear that he feels the warmth of her embrace.  It’s a shadow of such a loving and innocent touch that made him feel safer than bulletproof skin ever did.  He doesn’t voice it, but he would give anything to just hug his mother, or hold her hand one more time. 

Laura Queen is— _was_ Clark corrects himself—a woman who could one day be very vain and the next be very humble.  She came from old wealth and with it came an old sense of superiority.  That sense of superiority stayed for as long as Clark can remember, but at least in his memory, it was always a very subtle trait.  Her sense of superiority went from being that of thinking herself higher than people with lower incomes to people that she just considered inferior.  That inferiority, Clark could tell, had nothing to do with financial status or even power of any kind, but people that she considered stupid. 

One of those “stupid” people was Lionel Luthor.  Clark remembers how much he wanted to punch the Luthor patriarch every time he overheard him flirting with his mother.  He had no shame about do some of that flirting right in front of Clark’s father, Robert. 

People that Laura Queen considered herself _inferior_ to would be Jonathan and Martha Kent.  Her reasoning is that they are a happily married couple who are just happy.  They aren’t rich, and sometimes they struggle to make ends meet, but at the end of the day, they radiate joy. 

Clark’s mother sometimes found herself musing out loud if she would be in a similar place if she had learned to live a life without so many digits in her account.

Besides that, Clark doesn’t think he could have asked for a better mother.  Her primary concern had always been the safety and happiness of her children.  Sometimes she got a little carried away, giving both Clark and Oliver bodyguards (much to their annoyance) but at the end of the day they loved her for caring.  At home, she supported their father in convincing them to do housework.  It was more grueling, but Clark thinks that his brother shared his preference for doing work at the Kent farm. 

Clark does think that being with his father she learned a certain amount of humility. 

His parents actually met when his father was a scholarship student at Yale University.  He barely had five thousand dollars to his name, but what stuck out to Clark’s mother is how happy he seemed.  He wasn’t wealthy, didn’t grow up in a massive house, and couldn’t afford to pay his own tuition, yet he was far from miserable.  They met in a library when Robert was sitting reading book and Laura came over to tell him that he was sitting where she normally sat. 

Robert looked up from his book and apologized.  Not for sitting there, but because he didn’t realize there were invisible names on the chairs, assigning the seats.  He said that he would get up but he was enjoying his book so much that he had lost the use of his legs.  So if she wanted the seat, she would have to scoop him up and plop him into another chair. 

Clark always thought it was a funny story, especially since their argument led to them both being banned from the library for a week, making their assignments very difficult.

It would be another few weeks before their paths crossed again, but eventually they called a ceasefire and made peace over coffees.  Coffees led to movie nights and movie nights led to dates. 

Clark talks and talks about his parents and even as his cheeks become soaked in tears, all he can do is smile as memories flood his mind. 

“I’m so sorry that you lost them,” Lois apologizes softly.  “I wish I could have met them.”

Clark chokes out a laugh.  “My mother would have had you under a microscope,” _just as she did with Chloe_ , Clark fails to add.  Maybe, even if it wasn’t Lois Lane he was going on a date with, his mother would still have his date under a microscope.  “Knowing you so far, you probably would have fought back with your own scrutiny.”

Lois considers that.  “Most likely, if only to watch you squirm.”

Clark glares at her and she winks at him.  They are nearing Metropolis, so she allows him to direct her to where they are going.  He can hear her surprise as he leads to one of the less affluent districts of the city.  He leads her to something of a middle class district that he knows to be dominated mostly by Asian cultures.

Metropolis is nowhere near as culturally diverse as New York, or even Gotham, but it does have a modest variety. 

They park in a parking garage and Lois tosses the keys to Clark as they get out.  Once again, Clark offers his arm, but she refuses even as she falls into step beside him.

“So where are you taking me?” asks Lois. 

Clark laughs.  “You sound like you thought I’d be taking you to some expensive French or Italian restaurant, didn’t you?”

Lois doesn’t say anything, but her gaze looks both confessional and guilty.  It’s as if she is both confirming his question and regretting her assumptions.  It isn’t the first time that’s happened to him.

“You’ll see where I’m taking you,” Clark says confidently as they exit the parking garage.  They walk for a good ten minutes, passing a few restaurants and the intoxicating spells seeping out of them.  They also pass few vendors on the streets, offering all kinds of trinkets that they aren’t really sure of how to put a correct price on.  Once or twice, he finds himself leading Lois around those vendors as he feels the signs of nearby kryptonite. 

His father was relentless in trying to clear out as much kryptonite from Smallville and its surrounding areas, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t miss a few shards here and there. 

Clark and Lois eventually reach the restaurant he was taking her to.  “I don’t know how you feel about Indian food, but I hope you enjoy it.”

“I have never had it,” Lois tells him.

Clark turns a bewildered gaze on her.  “You haven’t?”

Lois shakes her head apologetically. 

“Well it looks like I’m going to have to fix that.”  This is a place that he enjoyed going to with Chloe.  Clark is starting to realize that some of what he’s doing is mirroring his past relationship.  Hopefully he will start seeing some significant differences as his relationship with Lois grows. 

They head into the restaurant and Clark’s nose welcomes the smell of some of his favorite ethnic foods. 

They are soon greeted by a waiter Clark recognizes. 

“Mr. Queen!” he greets.  Clark knows this guy to be about twenty and he’s part Caucasian, part Indian.

“Travis!” Clark greets back. 

“ _Who’s the lady_?” asks Travis, in Hindi. 

“ _This is my date, Lois Lane_ ,” Clark replies in Hindi.  He gazes beyond Travis at the restaurant.  The place is packed and bustling with people carrying on relatively quiet conversations, except for the occasional laughter.  “ _Is there a table available_?” 

Travis smiles confidently.  “ _Right this way, my friend_.”  He turns on his heel and Clark and Lois follow after him.  He leads them to small table in the back of restaurant and Clark thanks him in earnest.

“Can I start you two off with drinks?” asks Travis in English.

“We’ll start with waters,” replies Clark.  “And put a slice of lemon in mine.”

“I didn’t ask you to order for me,” Lois mutters as they sit down.

“And you’re telling me that you _wouldn’t_ have tried to order a beer?” Clark counters quizzically.

Lois tries to be fierce, but fails.  “Touché, Queen.”  She takes off her coat and Clark takes moment to observe her outfit.  He thought she would have tried to impress him with something red or blue, but now that assumption has been proven wrong.  Instead, she’s wearing a grayish white cashmere sweater with loose sleeve with a slight V-neck.  It doesn’t dip down far enough to reveal her cleave, but far enough to make the shirt straddle a point between innocent and exciting. 

“So you’ve been coming here a lot?” asks Lois. 

Clark regains his thoughts.  “I like their food and the service has yet to disappoint.”  He studies her briefly.  “I’m assuming you’re asking about the Hindi?”

Lois inclines her head. 

Clark chuckles.  “After coming her so many times, I thought it wouldn’t be a bad idea to learn to speak and read the language.  My written Hindi needs some work, and it wasn’t pretty at first, but I learned the language.”

“How many languages do you speak?” asks Lois laughingly.

Clark thinks for a minute.  “English, French, Ancient Greek, Hindi, a little Russian…” he counts off out loud.  “About four and a half.”

Lois shakes her head.  “How many more surprises am I to expect from you?” she demands. 

As she asks the question, Travis comes back with their waters.  One thing Clark likes about this place is how good they are about keeping their water glasses bottomless.  Clark is sure that he has quite a few more surprises for Lois, and hopefully not just the more obvious ones.  “Hopefully about as many as you do for me.”

Lois cocks an eyebrow and raises her water glass approvingly.  “I like the sound of that.”  After taking a sip from her water, she opens her menu.  “So what’s good here?”

“Do you mind spicy food?” asks Clark.

“No.”

“Do you have any idea of what any of this is?”

“No.”

“Then let me guide you through the menu.”

“You murder my mouth, I’ll kill you.”

“That sounds exciting.”  Yes, Clark is thinking that he’s going to enjoy the rest of this date.  He’s not sure either of them is ready to end it with a kiss, or even a hug, but he will see what happens.

***

This is the last place Lex wants to be.  Half an hour ago, he was enjoying rereading the _Iliad_ for the umpteenth time before he received a call from the warden of Kansas State Penitentiary. 

To be fair, as much as he admires the strategy of the Greeks, tricking the Trojans into bringing them right into their city beyond the otherwise impassable walls, he’s not sure how he feels about what the Greeks did afterwards.  Burning a city to the ground is one thing, but the raping, the infanticide, and depravity of the Greeks is just wrong. 

Lex could say that the events of the _Odyssey_ , Achilles being killed, and Agamemnon getting murdered by his wife’s lover were the gods’ way of punishing them for their actions.  Of course, the whole siege of Troy could have been prevented if it weren’t for the stupidity of Paris.  Stealing a man’s wife, especially when the man’s brother is a power-hungry conqueror, is just beyond stupid. 

If Lex were to be bribed by Aphrodite, Hera, and Athena as Paris was, he probably would have chosen Athena.  Lex is always striving for better skill in his battles and the appeal of earning the wisdom and skill of great men past is almost intoxicating. 

Lex was ready to hang up on the warden, but the warden told him that his father was dying and wished to speak with him.  The last time he wanted such, he tried to transfer bodies with him.  Lex wishes he could have gotten his hands on whatever it was that his father tried to do that to him with.

Not at all enthusiastic, Lex marked his page and returned the leather-bound book to its place on the bookshelf. 

It didn’t take him too long to arrive at the prison. 

Now as he drives up to the gate, he sees the warden has come out to meet him as he is buzzed in.  After Lex parks his Porsche, he gets out and heads over to meet the warden. 

“So you had to call me at eight in the evening?” asks Lex authoritatively. 

The warden who looks to be in his late fifties clears his throat.  “Your father…”

“Call him Lionel Luthor,” Lex corrects the man tightly. 

“ _Lionel Luthor_ is barely hanging on and he says he has some important information for you,” the warden informs him.  “Information that he says would ‘double LuthorCorp’s profits’.”

Lex raises an eyebrow, but remains unconvinced.  “Fine, take to me to him.”

The warden leads him into the prison where Lex allows himself to be patted down.  He has no reason to bring a weapon into this place, especially if his father is indeed on his deathbed.  After the correctional officers clear him, the warden continues to lead him through the prison, eventually coming towards the hospital ward.

There’s something oddly contradictory about seeing people in hospital beds with cuffs around at least one wrist.  They are trying to get healthy again, but each and every one of them is still a prisoner.  A good number of these prisoners’ injuries are likely sustained from fellow prisoners.  It’s a beautiful thought that Lex’s father has spent the last several months as one of those prisoners. 

Eventually, the warden leads Lex to his father’s room.  As Lex steps into the room, he takes a moment to observe his father.  The man never looked so frail.  Liver spots cover his hands and his face looks sallow, as if all the color it might have had once was drained through a straw. 

“Lex,” his father greets weakly.  “I’m surprised you made it.”

Lex shakes his head as he steps closer to his father’s bed. The tube connected to his nose fogs a little with each breath. 

“This is probably one of the best sights you’ve ever seen,” his father sneers.

“You weren’t exactly winning any father of the year awards,” Lex fires back.

His father turns towards him and manages a scowl.  “Everything I did to you, for you, was so you could grow up to be a great man.  You still let your emotions rule you.”

“I’m not emotional, Dad,” Lex argues coldly.

His father scoffs again.  “Let me guess, every bad memory, every time you thought I was a terrible father, every mistake you think I made is running through your mind and you are just barely holding it together.  You’re angry and it’s influencing your decisions.  That’s why you struggle as a businessman, Alexander.”

Within the pockets of his coat, Lex’s hands ball into fists.  If only his father would live just a little longer to see the great man that Lex knows he can be.  The man that he knows that he is getting closer to becoming.

“Why did you ask me here?” he asks evenly.

His father struggles to lift a hand.  “On the tray, there’s a slip of paper.”

Lex follows the direction of his father’s hand and indeed he sees the paper.  Curious, he walks over and picks it up.  He reads what’s on it.  “What is this?” he asks without turning around.

“It’s the location and combination of a shipping container outside Metropolis,” replies Lionel.

“What’s so special about it?”

“Have you ever wondered about the Queens?”

Lex whips around with a frown.  “You mean as in Clark and Oliver Queen?”

His father smiles approvingly.  “You are clever.”

“What does this container have to do with them?” demands Lex.  “What is your interest in them?”

“They can’t be trusted, Lex,” his father informs him cryptically.  The heart monitor begins to beep rapidly. 

Alarmed Lex dashes over and leans in close to his father.  “Tell me!”

“Clark Queen…is not…from…around h-here,” his father manages. 

Lex stands back and watches as nurses rush in and try to revive Lionel Luthor.  No tears build up, no ache in his chest forms, nothing happens as his father flat lines.  He feels nothing.  Only a newfound curiosity towards what has become his former friend and his older brother fills his mind.

“Time of death, eight fifty-nine p-m,” announces one of the nurses. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So obviously I ended this chapter with a couple of cliffhangers, but I hope that you all enjoyed. And comments are always welcome.
> 
> Plus, I have no idea why I added the Blair Waldorf cameo. It popped into my head and I felt it would give Clark Queen a decent idea of how spoiled rotten some people with the same privileges as he can be.


	31. Chapter Thirty

_June 10 th, 2001_

_Clark will be starting high school at the end of the summer.  It’s really amazing how time can fly.  Poor Laura was crying over how it seems like it was yesterday that she was teaching him to walk.  It is scary.  It really depends on the day for me._

_Some days, I wish Clark would stay young forever, so that I don’t have to deal with letting him transition into adulthood.  Other days I am grateful.  It will open up a lot of time for just me and my wife.  Not that I don’t love Clark—I love him with all my heart—still after a few years you really start to see the how much time you devote to your children instead of the person you married._

_Clark figures he wants to spend as much time “having fun” before he starts high school.  He’s been getting so good at flying.  One day, he actually surprised his mother and I, as well as Jonathan and Martha, who we invited over for dinner, with dinner…from Thailand.  He took his platinum card (which he almost never uses) and flew all the way Bangkok and back in three hours._

_It was delicious.  It was different from the Thai food at the Thai restaurants I have been to.  He wanted a foreign “un-Americanized” dinner.  Thankfully, he thought to find someplace that accepted the American dollar.  I don’t want to have to deal with converting a few dollars into baht._

_I guess if Clark wanted to and if he had nothing else going on, he could take some spending money and fly off somewhere for a week’s vacation or whatever.  Next week, he has plans to fly to Hawaii.  He wants to learn to surf!  I would pay money to see how he does._

_However, he is a bit bummed out.  Flying while carrying someone is not impossible for him, but he does need practice.  I’m too busy, sadly, but his mother is will to go with him.  He said he would take her with him, but last night Laura and I found him in his loft listening to his boom box.  He was listening to the song “Iris” by the Goo Goo Dolls._

_Listening closely to the lyrics, and seeing the book in his lap.  It was a copy of_ Beauty and the Beast.  _Not Beaumont’s version, but Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve’s version.  I do not know why I remember that name.  Clark was crying._

_His mother and I approached him as gently as we could.  Without looking up at us, he told us that he wanted to tell somebody who he is.  It broke our hearts to say it, but we reminded him that he couldn’t.  Clark closed the book and dropped it on the couch violently.  Not enough to ruin the couch, but enough to make us jump._

_He got up, turned off the sad song (in his case, it’s a_ depressing _song) and began pacing.  He kept saying how unfair all this is.  Paraphrasing here, he said some people—like the ones you see in Guinness World Records—lift things with their tongues and pull fully loaded ladder trucks with nothing but a harness strapped to their torso.  Clark can flying from Kansas to Thailand and back in three hours.  He can fly, run faster than a bullet, and he can lift a bar of solid gold the size of a semi-truck.  He hates having to hide who he is.  If people knew what he was, he likens himself to the Beast._

_I can see the analogy.  There would be many people who wouldn’t see past the strangeness of Clark’s abilities and heritage.  Even if he did find some people who did, there are those who would take him away from his family, lock him up, study him…or just kill him outright._

_In all the times I thought Clark would wish he was normal, I’ve proven wrong.  He doesn’t wish he was normal.  He’s proud of who and what he is (and surprisingly modest about it) and he wishes he didn’t have to hide behind a “façade of normalcy.”_

_When he was done with his tirade, he sunk down into an armchair and bawled.  We comforted him as best we could._

_This is turning into a depression for Clark.  I’m sure if there’s a therapist in the world I can trust.  Even if I did, how would they be able to help a boy from another planet therapeutically?_

_I don’t like the idea, but I think it is coming to that time to show Clark his spaceship.  It’s locked up in the same lead safe underneath the Kents’ storm cellar.  Maybe something about it might be able to help him to not only understand who he is, but how to fit into this world._

_Maybe it’s worth a shot._

 

Clark spent hours reviewing how his first date with Lois Lane went.  He locked himself in his bedroom before Oliver, Chloe, or even Tess could ask him about it.  Oliver even bribed him with ice cream to share how his date went.  He turned his brother down. 

Weirdly enough, out of the three of them, the one he wanted to talk to the most about it was Tess.  He’s not too sure what to make of her.  She and Oliver seem really good together, though there is something off about her.  Not that there’s anything about her that makes the hair on his arm stick out, nothing sinister, but just…off.  If anything, Tess reminds him of himself.  She has that vibe like there are layers and layers of secrets. 

It’s like you unlock one or two secrets only to find more, deeper secrets underneath those secrets, and even more secrets under those ones.  If she’s anything like him, those are the kind of secrets that even she might have trouble unlocking. 

Beyond Clark’s deepest secrets, there are the secrets that even he wants the answers to.  What was Krypton like?  How did society differ from that of Earth?  Was the whole planet united under a single governing body, one overarching culture?

Was his biological father a man with real emotions…or was he every bit the monotonous, and often harshly strict, man as is the bodiless entity that he knows? 

Tess is a woman with secrets, and Clark hopes that maybe they will be able to share each other’s secrets. He figures if Oliver wants to be with this woman, he might have to share some of secrets with her at some point.  The thought excites Clark, but how would she take it?

Perhaps he should give it more time before he thinks too hard about it. 

As for his date with Lois, he replayed the evening in his head.  The fact that she seemingly went out of her way to get very personal with him…he reminded himself that she was probably as nervous as he was. Plus, he’s her cousin’s ex.  In fact, that detail made the whole thing very awkward for them both.

One thing that he felt good about is showing her that he sometimes favors the quality of food over the prices on the menus.  Growing up, he can recall plenty of places most people can’t afford where the food was very disappointing.  He prefers to develop his own opinion of food and not let statistics rule his decisions.

It’s how he found that Indian restaurant when he was fifteen.  Actually, he never shared it with anyone, not even Chloe, that he found the place by following his nose.  He didn’t share that with Lois in explicit detail, but what he did share got her laughing.  It got her asking how many other good places to eat he had found simply by following his nose. 

Clark decided to save that answer for another time, but he’s found quite a few restaurants he loves simply by following his nose.  One of his personal favorite pizza places was some family-owned joint in Indiana that delivered your beverages by toy train.  The booths were set up so that the tracks would be inside the wall and when your drinks came, it would stop at your booth and you would open the little window to retrieve them.  Then you would press a button and the train would be on its way again.

When he introduced Chloe to that place, she thought the place was awesome.  Clark even waited for forty-five minutes while she interviewed the owner.  As it was a special place shared between them, Chloe kept the article in her scrapbook.  By no request from him, she chose to keep their special places between them without publishing her articles.

Clark’s date with Lois might have been off to an emotional start for them both, but things soon lightened up, especially when their food arrived.  Lois clearly overestimated her mouth’s tolerance for spicy food, because a few bites of her lamb gobi and she was whimpering.  Those whimpers intensified when she kicked him from underneath the table.  He felt the impact, but no pain. 

He warned her.  She just saw the lamb pieces and cauliflower with _hot_ curry sauce and ordered it.  Her face and ears didn’t turn red or anything, but her nose got really runny.  He gave her his pack of tissues.  He has no memory of ever sneezing in his life, yet he always carries tissues.  Times like his date with Lois—who had no tissues—it just seemed like something good to have. 

When she stopped whimpering over her spicy dinner and her bruised foot, she choked out that she hated him.  It’s not an endearing to hear, yet he’s never been more touched to hear those words from anyone.  It would break his heart if he heard it from his parents, or Oliver, or Chloe, the Kents, and even Lex.  Hearing from Lois made his heart skip a beat and a smile to spread to his ears.  Without thinking, he asked her to say it again. 

After a moment’s puzzlement, she leaned in close across the table and whispered how much she hated him.  Clark gave her a long, thoughtful look.  Then he leaned in close so that their faces were inches apart.  Her expression remained unchanged, but he could hear her breath catching in her throat.  Clark still isn’t sure what he felt.  He felt grimy, as if he hadn’t showered in a week.  He felt guilty, as he was on a date with his ex-girlfriend’s cousin.  A rush of heat went from his fingers to his toes and back again.  Most disturbingly, a flash of Chloe’s face went through his mind and he had to blink to remember who was sitting across from him. 

In the space of a few seconds, he went from feeling confused, to a rush of heated desire, only to finally get a mental bucket of ice water dumped over his head.  He struggled to keep his composure as he reached for a napkin and lightly dabbed a bit of curry from Lois’ lip. 

Without a word, the two of them settled back in their seats and tried to ignore what just happened.

The rest of the date, they ended up exchanging silly stories without really meaning to.  Lois shared a story when she was twelve she snuck into one of the soldiers’ barracks and randomly placed everyone’s boots somewhere else.  That same night, she snuck into an officer’s quarters and shaved off his eyebrows.  It was after an evening of drinking, so the man was passed out cold. 

When morning came, the soldiers spent about ten minutes trying to figure out whose boots were whose.  The officer with the missing eyebrows was livid.  He called for all the soldiers on base to line up so that he could study each and every one of them to find the culprit.  Those who made the mistake of staring above his eyes or cracking a smile were forced to run laps and clean the barracks with toothbrushes.

It was one of the few times in Lois’ life that her father never found out that she was the one who did it.  It was also one of the few times that she and her sister, Lucy—Clark can never understand how it seems several people in his life have alliterate names, especially ones with L.L.—did something together. 

What really got Clark to laugh, was that her sister, Lucy had glued the hairs of the officer’s eyebrows to his otherwise shiny combat boots.

Sometimes Clark would like to see how fast and how many times he can list off all the people in his life whose names start with an _L_.

Clark thought for a minute about what story to share.  Many of his silly memories involve him using one of his powers.  He can think of several memories where he and his brother wrecked mayhem combining his powers and Oliver’s hunter-like agility and uncanny accuracy with a bow.

He took long enough that Lois reached across the table and grasped his wrist in something of a sisterly gesture.  She must have mistaken his hesitation for emotion.  Turns out, she was half-right.  There were several more silly memories that involved his parents.  Every time he tries to block his final, awful images of them, they replay in his mind so fierce that he has to remind himself that he’s not falling from a twenty-thousand-foot height. 

As politely as he could, he asked if they could save that for another time.  Lois seemed to understand.  It took him weeks to open up to Chloe and the Kents.  Being little more than a stranger to him still, Clark wonders how long it will take him to open up to her on that emotional of a level. 

When they finished their meals, Clark paid, offering a generous tip.  He had been going to that restaurant a long time, and they never failed to impress him. 

By the time they got back to the house, they got out and stopped about halfway between the front door and Lois’ car. 

At the same, they said they had fun.  Again, simultaneously, they started to ask each other when they could try it again. 

Clark spoke up and told her since he planned this date she should plan the next one.  She seemed to like that idea.  She added that they could continue that arrangement, taking turns planning dates.  If they end up preferring to keep things simple between them, they can back off and still call each other friends.  They left it unspoken, but Clark does wonder what it will mean if things turn out well for them. 

Still, they shook hands and called it a deal.

As Clark went to bed that night, he found comfort in knowing that Chloe seemed okay with what could end up happening between him and Lois.  He knows her very well.  As such, he hopes that the woman who is still his best friend will let him know if he’s making her feel uncomfortable.  Knowing her, she might remind him that once in a while he ought to put his feelings above hers.  Can he blame himself? 

Even when his mother was teaching him to think of others, she reminded him to think of himself once in a while.  Sometimes, he thinks he overdoes it, simply so that he can feel that motherly nudge again.  That same nudge that he reminds himself that he won’t feel again.

Clark had a strange dream that night.  No surprise, he found himself making love to Chloe.  Although, as per the distorted reality of dreams, sometimes he couldn’t tell whose face it was.  Sometimes it was Chloe’s face, Chloe’s body.  Other times, it was Lois’ face, her body.  His mental picture of her body isn’t too vivid, so it was all a very weird dream.  In fact, it was so bizarre that he felt no orgasm in his sleep.  By way of proof, when morning came, there was no wet spot in his underwear.

When he went downstairs to join Oliver for breakfast, he couldn’t have been more unprepared for what he saw on the front page of the _Daily Planet_. 

Lionel Luthor had passed away.  While not exactly a man worth mourning, it was still huge news.  Clark would soon find out that several papers across the country were circulating the news.  Stranger yet, Clark and his brother were invited to the funeral service. 

Standing now in the lightly falling snow a week before Christmas, between his brother and Chloe, all dressed in black, Clark is surprised by the turnout.  When he and Chloe arrived together, he mentally counted about a hundred people.  Large turnout or not, as Clark watches the mahogany casket get lowered into the concrete tomb, which will then be lowered into the ground, it doesn’t feel like a sad event. 

Most of these people, when whispering with Oliver, Chloe, and Tess—who is surprisingly connected with LuthorCorp—are business delegates, coming to pay their respects.  From the looks of many of them, Clark figures a few of them are thinking “good riddance” or otherwise fighting the temptation to spit on the grave. 

When Clark read the obituary, it was weirdly light on the late billionaire.  While acknowledging his crimes, it mostly painted him as a misunderstood philanthropist, highlighting his accomplishments as a businessman and building the empire that is LuthorCorp.  The obituary has Clark and Oliver taking turns firing arrows at cinderblocks and wooden targets respectively. 

Their father, as least they and a number of their mutual friends feel, was a much better man than Lionel Luthor.  Yet, Robert Queen was denounced as a weak businessman in his later years.  If they would look at the statistics, they would have seen that Robert Queen kept an impeccable balance between investing in charities and making breakthroughs in medical technology and renewable power sources.  He knew how to bring money into the company without relying on just weapons development programs and electronics.  When the brothers were done venting, Clark thought back to the negative attention brought to the Queens when their father backed out of the partnership with LuthorCorp.

Knowing their father, there must have been something particularly bad for him to have backed out of that partnership. 

Through the proceedings of the funeral, Clark was surprised to see Lucifer Morningstar.  In fact, both he and Diana were there.  When whispering with Chloe, they found themselves wondering about the elephant in attendance.  Mr. Morningstar and Diana seem to have been purposefully avoiding each other.  Did something happen between them?

“You think they slept together?” asks Chloe in a hushed voice. 

Clark whipped his head around to meet Chloe’s gaze.  She lifted her eyebrows. 

“No, I do not think they slept together,” he replies tightly.  He changes the subject before their hushed conversation gets noticeably awkward.  “Where are Trixie and Emma?”

Chloe looks away, towards the tomb where people are now sprinkling handfuls of dirt on top of.  “Trixie told me that she hates funerals.  After her mother’s funeral, she just can’t handle them anymore.”

Clark nods.  “Wasn’t her mother a cop?”

“Detective,” Chloe corrects him.  “Trixie hasn’t told me what happened, but at the funeral service, she was praised as a great detective.  Trixie says that she now hates the sound of bagpipes, especially the song, ‘Amazing Grace’.”

Clark sighs sympathetically.  After his parents’ funeral, burying what was left of their bodies he thought he was done with funerals.  A few plots from here, they rest side by side.  He hasn’t visited them once.  He can’t even bring himself to glance towards their conspicuous granite tombstone. 

He distracts himself by glancing at Lex.  Lex stands not far from the tomb as it is lowered into the ground.  With his hands in his pockets and chin held high, his expression is unreadable. 

“Chloe, will you excuse me for a minute?” Clark asks.

Chloe follows his gaze and nods understandingly.  In fact, she gives him an encouraging push.  Taking her wordless prompt, Clark walks over to join Lex.  He can’t even tell if Lex acknowledges his presence as he stands next to his old friend. 

“I’m so sorry, Lex,” Clark offers gently.

Lex scoffs.  “He was hardly a father worth grieving about.”  Still, Clark thinks he hears a trace of pain in Lex’s voice.  “Not everyone has a great father like you did.”

Clark allows himself a watery smile at the compliment.  “There were a lot of things I was angry about when my parents died.”  He’s not sure if that was the right thing to say as Lex slowly turns to face him.

“You have no idea what I’m feeling right now, Clark,” he says slowly.  “I’m sorry, but I’m not sure if what you felt is anything close to what I feel.  Your parents…”  Lex shakes his head.  “Like anyone, I’m sure there were things you resented about them when they died, but I didn’t have a father who took me to the Olympics.  I didn’t have a father who came to my piano recitals.  It wasn’t unusual for our fencing matches to end in a scratch followed by a reminder of how I’m an embarrassment to the Luthor name.  I didn’t get a comforting hug whenever I came home feeling like crap.” 

In a rare moment of emotion, Clark sees a tear roll down Lex’s cheek. 

“Clark, you had wonderful parents,” he says, fighting to maintain an even voice.  “I envy you, Clark Queen.”  He turns away again. 

Clark turns forward as well.  “I’m sorry that we’ve been out of touch lately,” he apologizes eventually.

Lex laughs mirthlessly.  “Don’t be.  Your brother came back from the dead; you deserve be making up for the lost time.”

“Still, do want to get together for coffee, or a game night like we used to sometime?” offers Clark.  A big part of him knows that this is an olive branch after what happened between them.  Still, Clark doesn’t want his old friend to feel like he has no one to help him through the grieving process.

“I’ll think about it,” Lex responds after a few minutes.  “But first, it looks like your brother needs you.”

Clark follows his gaze and his heart sinks as he sees where Oliver is standing.  He turns and squeezes Lex’s shoulder affectionately.  “Take care of yourself, old friend.”

Lex doesn’t smile back, but he offers Clark a similar squeeze to his shoulder.  Then he steps away quietly. 

“I’ll see you at Christmas?” Clark calls after him. 

Lex stops in his tracks and turns slightly.  “Count on it,” he replies softly.  Then he walks on without another word. 

Clark turns back towards his brother.  As he walks through the snow, he sees Chloe and Tess are not far off.  Clark looks down at his hand and sees he still has the bouquet of white roses.  They aren’t his mother’s favorite flowers, but after all this time, he’s sure she will appreciate them. 

As he nears the granite tombstone reading the names of his parents and their birth and death dates, Clark sees the long caption written across the bottom.

_May we all fly farther than we could ever imagine, across the sky, across the stars, across the universe, until we reach our wildest fantasies_

 

“...sorry I’m late, Mommy,” Clark hears his brother say.

Oliver laughs.  “Oh, my God, I haven’t called you that since I was what—twelve? “  He smirks.  “You know I’m with you, right?”

Clark narrows his eyes and he sees Chloe and Tess tense up.

“How could you and Dad let Clark get so tall?” demands Oliver.  “He’s supposed to be my _little_ brother and now he’s tall as me.  Shame on you.”  The cheekiness in his voice makes Clark calm down a bit.

There’s somebody here I’d like to introduce to you.”  Oliver turns slightly and offers his hand. 

With a shy smile, Tess steps forward and grasps his hand.  “How do you do, Mrs. Queen?”

“Mom, this is Tess Mercer,” Oliver introduces as he talks to the tombstone.  “She saved my life.”

Tess laughs softly.  “Actually, Mrs. Queen, I’d say it was _him_ who saved _my_ life.”  She and Oliver exchange glances.

“Okay, maybe we saved each other’s lives,” Oliver clarifies.  “You’d like her, Mom.  Not only is she beautiful, but she’s also—pardon my language, Dad—a bit of a badass.”

That startles a laugh out of Clark as he stands next to Chloe.  They exchange glances.  She smiles one of her special smiles up at him as she offers her hand.  Wracked with emotion, Clark grasps it with his own.  Goosebumps travel up his arm as she squeezes his hand. 

“Uh, Tess, will you give me a moment?” asks Oliver. 

Tess silently listens and steps back a few paces.  Clark doesn’t have to see his brother’s face to know that it’s becoming more difficult for him to contain his sobs.  He feels the same sobs.  In fact, Oliver’s legs buckle and he falls to his knees, grasping the tombstone. 

Immediately, everyone rushes towards him, but ease back before they touch him. 

Oliver says something that sounds like “I’m so sorry, Dad,” as his sobs build into childlike wails.  “I’ve wanted to tell you that so many times.  I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so damn sorry!”

Clark hands the flowers to Chloe and closes the distance to his brother, grabbing him and gently forcing him into his arms.  Oliver’s wails become louder as he grasps Clark tightly and buries his face in his shoulder.  It takes a moment or two for Clark to realize that that loudness is his own wails falling in broken harmony with his brother’s.  The brothers stay kneeled in the snow for several minutes as they mourn the bodies resting six feet underneath them.  For once, Clark is grateful his parents’ caskets are lined with lead.  He can’t fight the urge to x-ray the earth to view the caskets and seeing their bodies within would only destroy him. 

Several minutes pass before either one of them is able to calm down.  When Clark opens his eyes, he sees Chloe and Tess standing not far off with tears in their eyes.  Through Tess’s lacy veil, Clark thinks he’s starting to see the depth of her feelings for his brother.  He locks eyes with Chloe and he feels that sort of emotional hug they give each other even when they aren’t even touching each other. 

Through her green eyes, he finds himself comforted.  Perhaps, he’s even feeling a less romantic texture, though surprisingly deeper quality to the gaze they are giving each other. 

Chloe Sullivan, girlfriend or not, is an irreplaceable person in his life.  For once, he’s proud that she’s his best friend instead of his girlfriend.  It’s helped him realize that place that she will always occupy in his heart.  He meant what he said about them finding their way back to each other one day, but maybe she never left that spot to begin with.  They just agreed to change what they labeled each other and how they behaved with one another for a time, however long that may be in their indefinite lives.

Maybe he’s finally finding it in his heart to move on to another romance without worrying what it means for his relationship with her.

Clark hopes that Oliver can find a similar bond in Tess, or at least someone in his life. 

Eventually, Clark gently eases his brother out of their embrace and they rise to their feet.  Oliver’s gaze slowly moves between the people before him.  Through his tears, a smile fights its way into his lips. 

“I guess I have more people in my life than I thought,” he muses softly.

No one responds as the message sinks in. 

“Chloe, Tess, could you give Clark and I a moment, please?” Oliver requests. 

“We’ll be waiting for you,” Tess promises. 

As they walk away, Clark watches as Oliver stares at the tombstone.  “I’m sorry, Clark, but we need to find out what happened to them.  Somebody did this to them—tried to do it to you—and they need pay.”

Clark gazes down at the names of his parents and feels his grief roar into an inferno that can only be described as anger.  “This has been on my mind for a while now.  I think whoever did this knew I would survive.  Like it was a test to see what would happen.”

He hears his brother tense up.  “Then this person is a lot more dangerous than we thought.”

As if unison, the tear-streaked brothers lock eyes. 

“We have work to do,” Clark announces darkly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually had to take a break from this chapter to hug my cat and sob into her fur. I don't she appreciated it. xD
> 
> As you all know, I am not typically a Cloiser, but I hope you all took the ending of this chapter for what it was--Clark finding a sense of closure in his and Chloe's past love life. I cannot promise that the Chlark nostalgia will be limited to Robert's journal entries, but I can promise that I'll be focusing more on Clois, and even Tollie's, Lucifer's, and Chloe's new relationships in the chapters to come. I'll do my best to find a balance ;)


	32. Chapter Thirty-One

_October 20 th, 2001,_

_Clark seems to be adapting to high school quite well.  He’s not old enough to drive on his own yet.  Sometimes it’s confusing to really decide how old he is.  Officially, we have his birth year listed as 1987, but he looks like he could be fifteen instead of fourteen._

_His best friend, Chloe, quickly took over the school’s newspaper, the Torch, and has been breathing life back into its office.  According to Clark, she has started something she calls “The Wall of Weird.”  It started out as a scrapbook and mutated into a collage, dominating one of the walls of the Torch office.  It’s quite the fitting title.  She has been collecting articles of all the weird things that have happened in Smallville since the meteor shower in 1989._

_It’s made Clark want to share his secret with her all the more.  I don’t think that it’s a good idea yet.  When he asks me why not, I tell him as gently as I can, that I don’t think that he or Chloe are truly read for that.  I’m iffy as to whether the young, budding reporter would simply publish an exposé on him or not.  Perhaps it’s a bit harsh for me to think like that, but either way, I think Clark should wait until they have both matured a bit more._

_Clark is in the school’s ballet class.  Lana Lang is in the class with him as well.  The young lady is a hopeless case.  For a girl who witnessed something so traumatic as such an early age, she seems to be growing into a sweet girl.  I fear that that’s all she is—a sweet girl with no real ambitions.  If she is ambitious about anything, it’s trying to win over Clark’s heart._

_Speaking to Nelly in passing from time to time, she dropped unsubtle hints that Lana wanted Clark to take her to the Spring Formal.  Clark talks to Lana once in a while and I think that they are friends.  They aren’t close friends, not like him and Chloe, or even him and Pete Ross.  If anything, I think Lana makes Clark feel uncomfortable and he’s too polite to admit it._

_Pete has joined the football team.  The coach, some hotheaded man who ought to retire, seems to overlook him.  I think Pete puts too much pressure on himself.  He has older brothers who have all gone on to win state titles and he seems like one of those boys who feel like they have to be like their older brothers.  I’m not his father, but I would encourage him to be himself and stop trying to be what he thinks he needs to be._

_Through some encouragement from his mother and some bribery from me, Clark invited Chloe out to the dance.  Clark was a nervous wreck.  Plus, he was already uptight about what happened earlier that day._

_While running to school, he got hit by a car.  The driver of that car was none other than Lex Luthor.  The prodigal son of Lionel Luthor slammed into Clark and they flew off the bridge into the river below.  Lex nearly drowned if it weren’t for Clark, who dove back in, ripped the roof off the car, and pulled Lex out._

_I didn’t hear anything about it until Jonathan came by while Clark was at school.  I laugh every time I think of what Jonathan told me.  He said to Lex, when Lex asked if there was anything he could do, that he should driver slower._

_Now that I think of it, Lex does have some speeding tickets under his belt._

_Anyway, Clark told me that Chloe was excited to be going to the dance with him.  Sadly, Clark didn’t get to go.  He must have upset the Whitney Fordman, the boy who has been trying to win over Lana.  The silly boy got it in his head that Clark was the one who was trying to win over Lana._

_Poor Clark was strung up as the school’s annual scarecrow.  He was wearing Lana Lang’s kryptonite necklace.  He completely missed the dance and Chloe ended up sharing a dance or two with Pete.  Luckily, Clark was freed by Lex.  Impeccable timing too because some boy who had been in a coma for the last twelve years tried to burn down the school with an electrical fire._

_I don’t know what to think about that.  A boy, who had spent twelve years in a coma, wakes up looking like he never aged, and goes on a quest to avenge his being the scarecrow._

_It did make Laura and I smile that Chloe came by the house later.  She wanted a dance with Clark and she was going to get a dance with him.  They danced out in the garage.  Laura and I tried to find a vantage point where we could spy on them.  They slow danced, then they waltzed, then they tangoed.  There was no kiss, but they were so cute together.  Chloe, in that pretty black dress and gloves that went up to her elbows, and Clark looking pitiful in his wrinkly shirt and expensive denim jeans._

_And his mother and I were spying on him!  It’s a good thing that superhearing isn’t among his powers.  Or will it be?_

_Oh dear._

 

“I hate you, Clark.”

Clark peers down into the glaring eyes of his brother.  Chloe stifling her laughs and Oliver is just peering between Clark and the space below.  Clark glances down and indeed he is hovering twelve feet above the ground. 

“You hate me?” he repeats.  “I’m sorry, somebody had to put the star on top of the Christmas tree and this is a lot safer than bringing in the stepladder.  Next time, I’ll remember to lift you so that you can put the star on yourself.”

That sends Chloe laughing and Oliver’s face turns as red as Clark’s sweater with the zipper collar.

“If I had my bow right now, I’d…”

“Remember not fire arrows in the house,” Clark finishes firmly.  “Rules are rules.”

Oliver’s expression becomes murder.  Lifting a hand, he wags his fingers, beckoning Clark like a puppy.  “Come back down, little brother.  I want to make you a smoothie with something green and force you to drink it.”

Clark grimaces as he exchanges glances with Chloe.  Her laughter is gone, replaced by disgust.  He turns back to Oliver as he floats gracefully back to the ground.  “Been there, done that, and it hurt like hell.”

Oliver thinks about that for a minute.  “Yeah, it does sound unpleasant.”

“You two squabble too much,” laughs a voice that they all know very well.  The three of them jump as they turn and see Tess with what smells like one of Martha Kent’s apple pies.  Clark invited the Kents over for Christmas, but as much as they appreciated the offer, they wanted to spend the Christmas with just their daughter, Claire.  Also, Martha told Clark that he deserves to spend a holiday with his brother. 

Tess must have walked in without them hearing her.

“Tess, you look beautiful!” Oliver marvels, walking up to meet her. 

Tess smiles toothily as she gazes down at herself.  Indeed she does, Clark has to admit.  It’s turning into a bit of a snowy Christmas Eve, so she didn’t show up in an expensive dress and heels.  Clark and Oliver are tired of formal events.  Thus, Tess dressed accordingly.  Her figure-hugging black turtleneck sweater, complimented with her glittery red hair dangling around her shoulder is all quite lovely.  She’s even wearing little Christmas tree charmed earrings. 

Clark also feels that either the heat is turned up unnecessarily high or Chloe doesn’t get cold easily as she is just wearing a green halter top with her black jeans.  Her hair is devoid of decoration as she just has it tucked carefully behind her ears save for a few loose bangs dangling in her face.

Taking a moment to observe his home, he loves what he and his brother did with the place.  Wanting to bring back some of the spirit left behind by their parents’ enthusiasm for the holiday, they tried to decorate the house the way they did as best they could.  They decorated the railings of the stairs with lights and wreathes.  Christmas trees of varying size—mostly small ones that could go on an accent table—were place in every room.  Oliver found the Lego nativity he created years ago in the basement—Clark couldn’t believe his parents still had it—and he carefully set it up on the mantelpiece. 

Clark set up his much smaller glass nativity on one of the accent tables in the sitting room near the twelve-foot Christmas tree.  Normally, they would have gotten a real tree like the ones the Greers sell off their farm, but Tess convinced them to go for an artificial tree.

It was startling how passionate she was about it at first, but Clark likes how eco-friendly Tess is.  She is still studying for her master’s degree, but one of the things she would very much like to bring her ideas for more eco-friendly ventures to Queen Industries. 

As much as Oliver would like to go right ahead and take up his place in Queen Industries, he wants to finish the schooling he never got to finish.  He didn’t apply for it over the summer, so he has to wait until next year to reapply at Princeton. 

Clark found the ornaments for the tree.  He remembered where his mother stored Oliver’s ornaments and gave them to him.  As Oliver carefully went through all of his ornaments, he got tearful, but he was smiling.  He stopped to ask Clark several times if he remembered making some of those ornaments.  Clark has forgotten about some of those moments until Oliver prompted him to remember. 

More and more Clark has been finding memories that he wants to keep.  Some memories, no matter how trivial, are just too precious to forget.  Sometimes, Clark wishes he kept a journal growing up, like his father had. 

It’s never too late to start. 

Clark’s thoughts are interrupted by a loud knock at the door.  Clark exchanges looks with everyone.  “I’ll see who is at the door,” he volunteers.

***

Lois swears, if someone doesn’t open that big white door soon, she is going to kick it down.  It’s frigging cold and she wants in!  She knocks again, incessantly. 

The door swings open and she nearly loses her balance.  She comes face to face with none other than Clark Queen dressed appropriated in a red sweater and blue jeans.  In fact, the only thing that looks expensive is his shiny black loafers.  Lois doesn’t know men’s brands too well.

“Are you going to let me in?” she asks shaking against the cold.  She’s wearing a parka, a scarf, and thick gloves and she’s still cold.

Clark looks her up and down thoughtfully.  “Not by the hair of my chinny chin-chin.”  And he closes the door again.

That was _not_ funny.  “Goddammit, Clark Queen, let me in or I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll drive my car right through the door!” as soon as it is out of her mouth, she cringes as she mentally repeats herself.  _Huff and puff and…?_   She cannot believe she said those words! 

She clears her throat and knocks more gently.  This time, Clark opens the door again, though only partly. 

“May I come in?” Lois asks gently.

Clark smirks and opens the door wider to allow her access.  Lois steps in quickly and begins shucking off her gloves, then her coat. 

Technically, Lois had been living with the Queens, but it seems her father has been methodically keeping her away from them as much as he could.  With no concern of how he was reacting to it, Lois described how much she enjoyed her date with Clark.  She even added how excited she was to be planning the next date and began running through a bunch of ideas.  A hiking trip, a monster truck rally, the bowling alley—she can’t help it; she’s a gamer—a miniature golf course, to name a few ideas.  When he father cut her off in the middle of her thoughts, she got brave and spoke over him.

Lois didn’t make it to Lionel Luthor’s funeral as she wasn’t invited, but she’s been around the Queens long enough to know how they get when talking about their parents.  Oliver is really cagey, but he describes how he wanted to jump off a bridge after finding out how parents died.  The surrealism of it to spend five years holding onto the hope of getting home, only to come home to that, is just indescribable. 

As for Clark, she has learned to avoid the subject.  Not because she doesn’t enjoy hearing the good things he has to say about them, but because of the pain it causes him.  Lois feels she crossed a line she should never cross when she said these words to her father,

“Maybe you would understand half of what that’s like if your heart wasn’t just a lump of charcoal sitting in your chest!” 

For the first time since she was a little girl, her father slapped her.  Then he leaned in close so she could smell his cigar-stained breath and whispered for her to get out.

She obliged happily.  On the way to the Queens’ house however, she found herself regretting those words.  Her own mother was the one good thing in her father’s life and when she passed away, that part of him died with her.  Even so, it was times like those, when she uttered those awful words that a piece of that man resurfaced.

She wants to apologize.  Yet, she’s not certain that he is in the mood to accept any apology she has to offer.  Right now she just wants to spend time with her bro… Lois stops in mid-thought.  A smile spreads across her lips.  Yes, Clark and Oliver are her brothers.  They have dinner together, they have inside jokes between the three of them, Oliver watches sports with her, and they do outdoor activities with her.  In the last four months, Lois has experienced more laughter, felt more relaxed, than she had in her whole life. 

So yeah, Clark and Oliver are her brothers.

“What are you smiling about?”

Lois snaps out of her thoughts and sees Oliver staring down at her. She shrugs innocently.  “I’m just happy to be here.”

Oliver knows her too well as a scoff escapes his lips.  Then he frowns.  “What happened to your face?”

Lois fights not to touch her cheek.  She had not realized it was still tender from her father slapping her.  “Can we not talk about it?” she knows she’s imploring, but she doesn’t care.

Oliver nods quietly.  “Come on, I’ll get you a hot chocolate.”

A knocking at the front door comes again.  Oliver laughs.  “Who else are we expecting?”

Tess rushes to the door and opens it to reveal Trixie Morningstar.  Clad in a grey beret and what Lois is sure to be a thick pea coat, her brown hair is strikingly beautiful in its French braid.

“Clark invited me,” she announces.  “May I come in?”

“Get out of the cold, you silly girl!” Tess prompts with a laugh. 

“Full house now,” Lois mutters. 

“Agreed,” Oliver mutters back.  “Full, but thankfully not crowded.”

“Don’t jinx it.”

“Well, Lex turned down our offer for him to come over, so you might not have to worry about that.”

A brief silence passes between them.  Clark told Lois that he was trying to reconnect with Lex, but so far it seems Lex wants to be left alone.  Maybe he’s not one to share grief, even if Lionel Luthor doesn’t seem worth grieving.

Soon thought, Lois hears the sound of the grand piano.  She stares towards the piano room.  Together, Lois and Oliver walk towards the piano room.  They step in to find Clark sitting at it, playing a gentle, yet familiar melody. 

Chloe stands beside him.  As if unaware of everyone’s presence, she begins singing “O, Holy Night.” 

Lois smiles brightly.  Chloe has always been a beautiful singer.  She never wanted to make a career out of it, but Lois loves hearing her cousin sing.  Soon, she and Oliver are joined by Tess and Trixie and together they witness the performance.

Outside the windows, large snowflakes make their decent in swirling, sideways patterns.  It’s the late afternoon, but it already looks like dusk outside.  The vast, cultivated farmland that surrounds the property is blanketed in an ever thickening sheet of snow and what was once covered in crops rising high, is now just rows and rows of little stubs.  To Lois, they feel like sad reminders of what might have been a great harvest.  She sees farther than she thinks she should see.

Without meaning to, her thoughts seem to fall in sync with the song.  As Chloe reaches _Fall on your knees…_ Lois can swear the snow is dancing to the duet of her cousin’s voice and Clark’s flawless piano skills.  Reluctantly, she tears her eyes away from the snow and they settle on Clark.  She can’t see his face, but she has seen his face before while playing. 

When he plays, there is very little emotion in his face.  If you just stare at his lips, you might as well assume he is tense and is not enjoying himself.  But Lois has seen his eyes when he plays.  There’s a smoldering fire that roars into an inferno when his fingers dance upon the ivory keys.  It’s as if when he’s playing, nothing bothers him.  His body has less tension and it’s like he has become one with the music he creates.  

If only Lois felt she was as good a singer as her cousin.  She would love to sing for one of Clark’s pieces.  He’s already tried to teach her to play the piano.  She failed miserably.  One of the things she’s grown to like about him—love even—is that she feels she can be herself around him.  Even when he’s clearly annoyed with her, she would love to just let him see how free she feels around him.  It’s like there’s just no expectations where he is concerned, other than to be herself. 

At the same time, though, she can’t deny the underlying sadness about him.  Not just the depression of losing his parents, but something else.  She can’t put her finger on it, but it’s like there’s something about him that he’s holding back that he wishes he didn’t have to hold back.  What could he possibly be hiding that he feels shouldn’t have to be hidden?

Normally, Lois would dig so deep that she hit China, but something about Clark makes her not want to do that.  She’s never felt that way with anyone.  The date she forced him into was meant to loosen some of the tension between them, but she felt a spark. 

She doesn’t know what to call it.  She doesn’t know this guy too well.  Never in her life did she think she would _feel a spark_ with some handsome guy her cousin dated.  Never before has she been so scared that she’s being a terrible cousin.

Clark Queen both scares and intrigues Lois Lane.  She got him a Christmas present for crying out loud!  She never buys Christmas presents for anyone other than Chloe, and more reluctantly, her sister Lucy.

The song ends and Lois doesn’t even realize she’s clapping and it’s not just for her cousin.     


	33. Chapter Thirty-Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point, the journal entry dates correspond with the episodes they reference. Enjoy!

_November 12 th, 2001_

_Gabe gave me an ultimatum.  He said if he ever catches Clark staring at Chloe anywhere besides her eyes a minute too long, he would gouge his eyes out with a kryptonite spoon.  I still think it’s strange Gabe, my most trusted confidante, knows all about Clark and Chloe doesn’t know about any of his powers._

_Speaking of powers, Clark seems to have gotten a new one.  It was a few days ago, Clark was in town and Lex Luthor—or rather some shape-shifting young lady who took the guise of Lex Luthor, in turned out—bumped into him.  “Lex Luthor” shoved him and Clark got himself a huge headache.  Later, at school he started seeing weird things during gym class.  He fell of the climbing rope and he saw through the wall and peeked into the girls’ locker room._

_I managed to get him to admit to seeing Chloe without her clothes on._

_My adopted son can see through things!_

_He got really frustrated when his mother and I tried to help him figure it out.  He ended up figuring it out on his own and he can see through pretty much everything except lead.  One thing I thought was silly is that Laura seemed really self-aware all of the sudden and was crossing her arms more than usual.  She felt very self-conscious all of a sudden.  I even said this to her, why on Earth, would she be worried about her son seeing through her clothes?  My wife is a beautiful woman, but she shouldn’t be worried about Clark seeing through her clothes._

_Laura calmed down a bit, especially after Clark got things under control.  Still, he knows what at least ten of his female classmates’ bodies look like, including that of Chloe Sullivan and Lana Lang.  I told Gabe about Clark’s new ability and one of the first things that he said was that why should I worry about Clark looking through porn magazines, or online, when he can see through a woman’s clothes any time he wants?_

_I might as well look into the clothing business.  I know nothing about clothes.  I can’t even sew.  Clark can sew, but he learned that skill from Martha Kent.  I know a few people who work for Victoria’s Secret and Calvin Klein.  Perhaps I could find somebody trustworthy and suggest the idea of lead-lined underwear.  Over drinks with Gabe and Jonathan, Jonathan brought two really valid points:  What reason will I give for such an idea?  If it made its way onto the market, how many women will shy away from buying such underwear due to a fear of lead poisoning?_

_I’m sure that the people who design clothes would have a way of preventing lead poisoning, but yes, that would be an issue.  And what reason_ would _I give for such a strange idea.  I can’t just tell everyone that Clark can see through thing._

_It’s strange timing, but I gave Clark “the talk.”  I did the best I could, considering Clark’s biology might be very different from that of a human’s.  I introduced Clark to his spaceship a few weeks ago.  He promised to keep the place a secret.  In fact, I gave him all three keys to get into the safe in which the ship was held underneath the Kents’ storm cellar._

_Clark took about ten minutes looking over the ship, touching it, feeling it, and inspecting it.  When he was finally done, without looking at me, or his mother, or his godparents, he said these words,_

_“So I literally came here in a space-worthy baby carriage.”_

_I didn’t know what to say about that.  I still don’t know what to say about it.  All I can say is that Clark has become more frightened about his identity.  Observing him day by day, I can see that he wants people to know who he is, but at the same time, he doesn’t want people to look at him differently.  He knows that they would look at him differently, but he just wishes—in fact, we all wish—that we knew that it would be a good different._

_I say this to myself all the time and I hope one day Clark will understand.  It’s not important to be loved by everyone.  Clark could be more human, more loving, more caring, and more of pretty much everything and there would still be people who hated him.  It’s not even important to be accepted by everyone.  Sure, if Clark wasn’t what and who he is, there would be less chance of him being taken away for being different, but same deal._

_What I hope Clark will understand someday is that it’s more important that he’s able to accept who and what he is and be satisfied.  I’d like him to come to a point in his life where being loved by someone, or some people will just be the cherry on top instead of his ultimate goal._

_I just hope he can get his self-esteem in order.  His brother was better at that than anyone._

_I’d like to think that my Oliver is still with us somehow._

Clark can’t decide how to describe his latest Christmas.  It was sad because his parents weren’t there, but it was happy because his brother, who all thought was dead for five years, was there.  It was sad because he is between relationships, yet happy because he got to hear Chloe sing.  To make things a little strange, he caught Chloe kissing Trixie Morningstar under the mistletoe.

Chloe seemed as surprised as he did, but she didn’t back away from the kiss either.  She may not be his girlfriend, but still Clark couldn’t help feeling his insides twist in all directions at seeing his ex-girlfriend kiss someone.  He always knew Chloe to be bisexual; he didn’t care that she was kissing a girl.  It was just the fact that she was kissing someone who was not him. 

He and Chloe never kissed under the mistletoe.  They thought it was a stupid tradition.  If one of them happened to get caught under the mistletoe, Chloe would remind him that she couldn’t kiss him because of the plant over her head.  Clark would risk setting off the smoke detector by incinerating the mistletoe with his heat vision.  Then he would ask her, now that the mistletoe was gone, if he could kiss her.  She would tease him with all forms of the word _no_.  He would then drag her, or dip her, into a very passionate kiss. 

The kiss that she shared with Trixie under the mistletoe, at least from what he could see, was awkward for both of them.  Chloe would later tell him that Trixie initiated it.  Trixie did get nervous and before anyone could stop her, she fled the house. 

Everyone was too stunned to go after her.

Christmas for Oliver was a little melancholy.  Not just because their parents were dead, but because Tess cancelled coming over for reasons she wouldn’t explain.  He had a beautiful present for her. 

Oliver was red as a fire truck to admit it, but he got Tess jewelry.  He said he tried very hard to avoid getting her something so cliché, but he saw the emerald earrings in Smallville’s only jewelry store and he thought that they would really bring out her eyes. 

Lois, who was staying with them over the holidays in her usual room, didn’t have anything snarky to say.  Thinking back on it, Clark thinks that she might have been slightly snarky.

“I didn’t peg you for the hopeless romantic type, but if that red-haired beauty queen doesn’t like those earrings, then she’s nuts,” were her words. 

Oliver didn’t seem too uplifted by the compliment in that sentence.  It is New Year’s Eve now, and he would very much like to start the New Year off with his girlfriend. 

Clark and Lois watch Oliver from upstairs as he paces back and forth, waiting for Tess to answer what must be his thousandth call. 

“Is he always this bad at giving a girl her space?” asks Lois in a hushed tone. 

Clark looks down at Lois, feeling a little disappointed.  In an equally hushed voice, he replies, “To answer your question, no he’s not.  But in case you haven’t noticed these last few months, my brother is bit lonely for reasons you and I are both aware of.  Yeah, maybe it’s making him a little desperate for companionship, so why don’t you cut him a little slack.”

Lois doesn’t reply as she stares back down at Oliver.  Clark doesn’t have to look down to know that his brother is about close to tears.  “You know I thought you and your brother were like every other rich snob I’ve met in my life.”

Clark cocks his head at the sudden confession. 

“I met your brother at the hospital and I thought he seemed like some spoiled brat who partied too hard,” Lois continues.  “I met you and when your memory miraculously came back, for a moment you seemed nothing like the Prince Charming Chloe talked about.  Then I learned more about you guys, your parents, and you two just became some of the most damaged people I’ve ever met.  You two have more money than you can ever hope to spend and all you have is each other.

“I wish people would see you the way I do.”

Clark can’t believe his ears.  “And how do you see my brother and I?”

Lois’ eyes return to his.  “Special.  It’s like I’m finally seeing the guys that my cousin cares about so much.  The guy that was like an older brother to Chloe and the guy that has bonded so deeply with her that they are inseparable even as just best friends.  I wish I had a relationship with someone like that.”

Clark grasps her shoulder affectionately.  “I’m sure you’ll find somebody like that one day.” 

Lois scoffs.  “I don’t know; I might be planning a date for us at some point while there’s still snow, but I don’t know if I could ever have that kind of relationship with you.”

Clark frowns.  “I’m sorry, what?”

Lois blinks and then her cheeks flush with color as she pulls away from him.  “Oh, I didn’t mean _you_ you, I…I…”

Clark raises his eyebrows expectantly.  “Lois, you what?”

“I should make sure Oliver is okay.”  Lois backs away and rushes down the stairs before Clark can stop her.

He glances down at his watch.  It’s three hours before midnight.  Suddenly feeling the need to find something to occupy himself, he heads downstairs, grabs his coat from the closet and slips out of the house without anyone noticing.  As soon as he is out of eyesight, he shoots into the sky. 

As he flies, he glances down at the world below.  Much of Smallville is still lit up by Christmas lights that shine against the whiteness of the snow.  From a few thousand feet up, it casts a colorful glow upon the world.  It’s one of Clark’s favorite times of year to fly, when Christmas lights are all over and the usual monotony of city lights and small town glows are given a little more personality.  Some of his favorites are the houses where people choose to go with color schemes instead of the typical multi-color lights.  As much as he would like to float around and just drink in the sight, he is on a mission. 

He flies to Smallville’s only inn.  To avoid being seen, he lands in an alley and straightens his coat.  He walks up to the inn.  As he steps inside, he sees the lobby is all but empty.  Even Mrs. Kibbs, the woman who runs the place seems to have turned in for the night to spend with her family.  At least Clark knows which room to go to. 

He heads back outside and heads up the stairs to the room he wants to go to.  At last, he reaches room 209.  The green door seriously needs repainted, Clark thinks as he observes the old door.  That’s not his concern right now.  Clearing his throat, he reaches out and knocks three times.

He hears movement inside.  Taking a chance, he focuses his eyes and through the closed doorway, he sees Tess, wearing a silk robe come towards the door.  She stops not far from it, probably contemplating whether she really wants to open the door or not. 

She shakes her head and reaches for the knob.  Clark quickly straightens up and ceases his x-raying.  The door swings open and he finally notices her face.  Her hair is neat and wavy as always, but her face…

“Is everything okay?” asks Clark. 

Tess clears her throat.  “I thought you were Oliver.”

“He’s been trying to reach you.”

Tess glances down ruefully.  “I know,” she says quietly.  “Why don’t you come inside?”

Clark accepts her invitation as she steps aside to allow him access.  The room doesn’t look like it’s been used much.  He forgot how neat Tess is.  Save for the creases where she must have been sitting, the bed doesn’t look like it’s been used much.  Her suitcases are carefully arranged at the foot of the bed and there isn’t even a pizza box to prove that she’s been eating. 

The room itself feels like it never left the fifties.  There’s no TV, so Tess’ only link to any sort of countdown is through the radio.  The only things that seem to show a sense of modernism are the microwave atop the desk and bedside lamps. 

Clark’s eyes return to Tess as she goes to sit on the bed. 

“Something on your mind?” asks Clark affectionately. 

Tess pats a space beside her on the bed.  She shifts to the side just a little bit as Clark comes to sit next to her.  Clark sits patiently as Tess stares into her lap for several minutes. 

“You’re an orphan, aren’t you Clark?” she asks eventually.

Weird way to start a conversation, Clark thinks.  “You know the answer to that question, but what does that have to do with anything?”

“Sorry, it’s just I’m an orphan too,” says Tess distantly.  “Don’t you ever wonder about your birthparents?”

 _My birthfather is a dick and an artificial intelligence and I know next to nothing of my mother_ , would be Clark’s true answer.  “Every day.”

“I discovered who my birthparents were a few weeks ago,” Tess goes on. 

Clark’s eyes light up.  “Um, that’s great.  Does Oliver know?”

Tess shakes her head and Clark’s excitement turns to concern as he sees tears well up in her eyes.  “I don’t know how else to say this, so I’ll say it.  What if I told you that my father was Lionel Luthor?”

Clark blinks several times.  Of all the things in the world, he never would have expected that.  “I, uh…” he leaves the sentence hanging.

A small mirthless laugh escapes Tess’s lips.  “Yeah, that was about my reaction.  He had an affair once and out came me.  It makes sense almost.  I share some Luthor genes—my red hair, for example.  I remember Lionel reaching out to me a few times in my life.  I always thought it was because he was just interested because of my intellect.  I never thought it was because he was checking up on his bastard.”  She looks up at Clark.

“That’s what I am, Clark Queen—a Luthor bastard,” she sums up.  “My birth name is Lutessa Luthor.”

Clark doesn’t say anything.  He wouldn’t have been more astounded if someone had dropped a warship on his head.

“For ten minutes, I was so excited that I’d found out who at least one of my parents were,” Tess continues.  “On Christmas, I went to see Lex.  I started things lightly, accepting a drink and wishing him a merry Christmas, and telling him how sorry I was for his loss.  I don’t even remember what we talked about anymore other than Lex detailing one of his father’s atrocities as a parent.  Eventually, I got a little overexcited and I just told him that I was his sister.

“I don’t know what I was expecting as I began telling him how I knew.  From the research I did, to the records of my birth I presented, to some of the physical characteristics we shared, I described to him how I knew I was his half-sister.”

“What did Lex say?” asks Clark, gently and fearing the answer.

“‘Get out’,” replies Tess.

Her tears have built up into sobs now and Clark pulls her into his arms.  He holds her tenderly, reassuringly as she cries into his shoulder. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers to her.  Oliver’s girlfriend is usually a lot tougher than this, so he’s finding it difficult not to share her tears.  He also may have just found a new reason to hate his former best friend. 

Tess grips him a little tighter.  “Do you have any idea what that is like?  I find out I’m a Luthor and the closest thing I have to family rejects me.  And I haven’t been able to tell Oliver and I…”

Clark eases her away from him so that he can look into her eyes.  He’s come to care about this woman to the point that he hates seeing those green orbs filled with such pain.  He also sees something familiar.  It’s that same feeling of not belonging anywhere that he’s suffered too much in his life.

“Do you really think my brother would turn his back on you because you’re a Luthor?” he asks incredulously.  “It’ll be a bombshell, yes, but a bling man could see that my brother loves you.  He’s crazy about you, _Tess Mercer_.”

A smile cracks Tess’ lips at the emphasis he places on her name.  It’s the only name that matters to him, and if he wants to live, his brother also.

“Who are you?” asks Clark encouragingly.  “Tell me what your name is.”

Tess blinks at him slowly.  Eventually, she straightens her shoulders and her face becomes firm.  “I’m Tess Mercer.”

Clark cocks his head.  “I’m sorry, what was that?  I’m not sure I heard you.”

“I’m Tess Mercer,” Tess repeats, little louder.

“You can do better than that.”  When did he put on his coach’s shoes?

Tess is smiling through her tears now.  “I…am… _Tess Mercer_!” 

Clark actually winces at her shouting.  “Okay, okay, let’s not annoy the whole inn.”

A laugh escapes Tess’ lips as she shakes her head.  “How is it you don’t have a girlfriend?”

All humor evaporates and Clark’s face falls.  “I guess I’m having trouble moving on from Chloe.”

Tess grasps his shoulder affectionately.  “I know you two still care a lot about each other.  She’s your best friend.  Doesn’t that comfort you?”

Clark nods softly.  “I’m just…”

“Are you afraid of how a relationship with another girl will affect that relationship?” asks Tess.  “Or are you worried about the kind of different that a relationship with another girl might end up being?”

Clark gapes at his brother’s girlfriend.  She just smiles back.

“Sometimes you just have to take a leap of faith, Clark,” Tess reminds him.  “I’ll tell you what, if I can tell Oliver everything I just told you, you can find a new girlfriend.  If it turns out to be a happy relationship, then that’s great.  But it doesn’t mean that you’re betraying that memory of your relationship with Chloe.  Nor does it mean that it has to be happier or sadder than what you and Chloe had.  It’ll just be…different.”

“I wish everyone would stop telling me that,” Clark mutters. 

“Then maybe you should just get over your hang-up with Chloe,” Tess fires back.  “Look, you’re handsome, you’re funny, you’re sweet, and you’re polite; I would probably go after you if I wasn’t in a relationship with Oliver.”

Clark turns back to her and makes a smooching sound.  Tess glares briefly, but her smile returns.  He changes the subject.

“So, you think you can get dressed and we can go back to my house?” he suggests.  “Oliver would love it and I think you’ll love the present he has for you.”

“Give me a few minutes.”  Tess hops off the best and opens one of her suitcases.  “So, am I driving, or are you flying?”

Clark hesitates, but tries to hide it.  “Fly?  What are you talking about?”

Tess smiles as she stands up with some clothes in her arms.  “You don’t have to play dumb with me, Clark,” she promises.  “You think I never noticed the gust of wind that seems to come when you appear?  Or how you always seem to pop up when someone like me needs help?  Or how I’ve never seen certain tools in your hands when I see you and Oliver at the Kent farm?  Or how there’s always a faint sonic boom soon after you inexplicably disappear?” 

Clark doesn’t know what to say.  Obviously, there’s no lying to this woman. 

Tess walks over and sets her clothes down.  Then she takes her hands in his and looks him in the eye.  “You don’t have to hide who you are in front of me,” she promises him.  “I know you worry what people will think of you, and you have every reason to.  But I’ve watched you and I also know that you wish you could be less cagey.  You can trust me, Clark Queen.  One thing I left out of my tale of my encounter with Lex is that he asked me a lot about you and Oliver. 

“I care too much about you two.  I talked a lot about you both, told him plenty of things and not just trivial things, but I don’t think I told him any of what he would have liked to hear.  I think it’s possible that Lex is starting to have a bit of a fixation on you and Oliver.  But still, your secrets, Oliver’s secrets…they are safe with me.  And maybe one day, you’ll give me a full picture.”

Clark wants to put up his defenses, but a bigger part of him wants to hug her.  He does want to be less cagey and if Tess is being honest, then there’s just one more person in his life that he can be totally open with. 

Tess removes her hands from his.  “I have to get dressed now.”

Clark watches her until she disappears in the bathroom.  As she cleans up and gets ready, something that she said strikes out at him.

Is Lex investigating him again?  Clark never knew what happened the first time he found out that Lex had investigated him. 

If Lex is investigating him _and_ Oliver there’s only one question:  just how much does he know so far?      


	34. Chapter Thirty-Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope at least one of the events in this chapter was worth the wait.

_November 29 th, 2001_

_I’m starting rethink my residence in Smallville.  It seems that week after week a new…”meteor freak” as Chloe Sullivan coined them, pops up.  A boy who fell into a frozen Crater Lake miraculously survived, yet he was left with permanent hypothermia.  That’s not the only weird part.  He literally stole body heat from other people.  He even stole Clark’s body heat!  It took several minutes, but eventually Clark’s body warmed back up._

_There was an old man from the nursing home who fell into a koi pond and he somehow went from…I don’t remember nor care how old he was, he just turned into some teenage pretty boy again.  It turns out the man was once a promising pianist and he didn’t get scored the way he thought he deserved.  So he strangled the teacher with a piano wire.  It’s quite poetic actually.  Anyway, he set out to kill the descendants of those who convicted him.  Among them was Jonathan Kent.  Clark managed to save his and Martha’s lives by drowning the old-young man in grain._

_Most recently, there was a girl, a classmate of Clark’s. Some heavyset girl who was trying to watch what she ate.  I guess there were meteor rocks in her health smoothies, because she lost a lot of weight way too fast.  She lost weight faster than her body could handle and she ended up being starved.  She…devoured a poor deer. She almost devoured Pete Ross, the boy she happened to have a crush on._

_And all of these strange events had meteor rocks involved.  In fact, due to this steady rise in meteor freaks—the terms sounds so mean—Lionel has been pushing me to agree to investigate them.  I can’t agree to that.  Yes, they might be potentially dangerous, but they are still people.  They still have the same capacity to make right and wrong choices.  We are businessmen, not mad scientists who experiment on people.  What ethical boundaries permit us to start looking into children with meteor powers?_

_My business partnership with Lionel Luthor is like constant game of rock ‘em-sock ‘em robots.  We are always punching each other in a controlled motion, just waiting for one or both our heads to get knocked off.  Sometimes I win, sometimes Lionel wins, and most of the time we pretend we’re friends._

_Moving on, several occasions so far this year, Clark has saved at least one of his friends.  Usually it’s Chloe whose life he saves.  She doesn’t have the spirit of a damsel in distress, but she does seem to get herself into trouble a lot.  Clark tells me that he has suggested on more than one occasion that she learn some fighting skills.  Clark could be a good teacher…as long as he wears his blue meteor rock gear.  He doesn’t know to call it “kryptonite” yet._

_Clark’s building friendship with Lex Luthor worries me.  Clark, of course, is free to befriend anyone he wants, but Lex?  Jonathan Kent is more open with his disdain for him, but I try to be civil.  I’ve known Lex all his life and I’m full aware of how he is as a person._

_It’s because that that I worry about his friendship with my son.  Lex doesn’t let things go.  He can be obsessive about things that he ought to not be obsessive about.  No doubt he wonders how Clark managed to save him from the river.  And recently Lionel seems to have been trying to force him to cut a few workers at the fertilizing plant._

_The sad thing is that I believe Lex is really trying to be a good person and businessman.  That or he is trying a bit too hard to be different from his father.  That can be noble, trying to be something different from his father, but what if he ends up worse?_

_Will Lex betray Clark the way he betrayed Duncan Allenmeyer back at Excelsior?  More for his sake, I can’t bear the thought of Clark losing a friend in such a way._

_Maybe I worry too much._

_In Clark’s own words, “If you keep thinking the worst of him, he might just end up being everything you think he is.”_

_That’s precociously wise, coming from a fifteen-year-old boy.  Okay, maybe as a promise to Clark, I—and Jonathan Kent if I can get him to manage—will go easier on Lex._

_So long as he behaves and crosses no lines, we will go easy on him._

 

Clark has no idea why he agreed to this.  He spent a long time listening to Lois drone about how exciting they are.  Although he ended up being the one to surprise her with the tickets (much to her un-Lois-like delight) he feels that she was the one who planned the date. 

Now here they are in front row seats at monster truck freestyle.  He left for a few minutes to buy drinks and popcorn, but also to escape the chaos.  He was hoping for a more interactive date, but it’s pretty much impossible carry on a conversation over all the noise.  If he was a human being, he might be complaining about the roar of the engines and the screams of the crowd.

Lois seems to become a whole new person at monster truck events.  Yes, he knows her to be a brash, impulsive, and most of the time annoying woman, but this evening?  When a monster truck does something she doesn’t like or when one she isn’t rooting for scores too high, or anything really that she doesn’t like, she screams and swears.  In the last hour or so, Lois Lane has said more swearwords than Clark has heard her say in all the months she’s known her. 

He’s thought of giving her a taste of her own sarcastic medicine—or maybe that’s Chloe’s sarcasm?—and ask her if she kisses her dad with that mouth.  He just had to get away for a few minutes. 

Besides the chaos of this date, Clark has felt really good so far this New Year.  Tess revealing that she figured out his secret was a major bombshell, no question, but in the end?  It’s one less person he has to be tense around whenever she’s over.  Also, he feels that it’s deepened his relationship with his brother’s girlfriend.  In fact, Oliver seems to have deepened his relationship with Tess as well. 

Clark may have eavesdropped, but he was glad to hear and see (through the house) that Tess came clean with Oliver.  He might have been reassuring himself as well as Tess, but he was glad to see Oliver didn’t brush her off for being a Luthor.  He didn’t even add a witty remark.  He just listened to what she had to say and he hugged her. 

Clark had to quit eavesdropping soon after as that hug quickly turned into kisses and tearing off each other’s clothes.  Sometimes he thinks that if Oliver wasn’t dating Tess, he would.  Tess is a gorgeous, sophisticated, and intelligent woman.  She’s also about as damaged as him and his brother. 

Oliver doesn’t suffer abandonment issues.  That’s more Tess and Clark.  Although, Tess can’t say that she was put on a spaceship and sent to a different planet.  She’s not ready to go into depth about childhood and Clark knows Oliver respects that. 

 

One thing that Clark wishes he could talk about was Chloe’s kiss with Trixie.  He will admit that he felt a pang of jealousy that those weren’t his lips pressed against hers.  She doesn’t seem ready to talk about it either.  When Clark catches Mr. Morningstar at school, he doesn’t seem to think it’s his place to talk about it.  More annoyingly, he seemed more amused by it than anything else.

Beyond that, Clark’s relationship with his best friend has been quite steady.  Sometimes, she seems like his only friend. 

His other friend, Pete, barely seems to talk to him since he’s been back.  His new crowd of jocks seems to be his usual circle of friends these days.  On a positive note, Pete and Lana seem to be growing more comfortable with each other.  In several places, Clark has seen them talking, smiling, and laughing with each other.  Clark enjoys not being the object of Lana Lang’s affection. 

One thing that makes burying his own affection for Chloe as deep as he can is their already powerful friendship.  They talk to each other.  They share coffees.  Study nights followed by a movie are still a thing.  They are still quite a team when it comes to hunting down stories and thwarting the occasional meteor freak.  He loves how comfortable he feels around her.

More and more, he’s coming to realize that he hopes to find a similar comfort in being around Lois.  He doesn’t know what it is about her.  Perhaps it’s the fact that she’s so easy to hate is what makes her so attractive.  The thought even feels like a paradox in Clark’s mind. 

That’s exactly what Clark’s relationship with Lois Lane is—an entertaining, annoying, and completely irresistible paradox. 

The best thing about it is that it’s different from his relationship with Chloe.  With Chloe, there’s very little paradox.  That’s not a bad thing.  As such, he feels that it wouldn’t be right—wouldn’t _feel_ right—to have with Lois what he had with Chloe. 

With Chloe there was passion, love, excitement, understanding, and just an unbreakable bond that he doesn’t think can ever be topped.

He doesn’t want to top that relationship by exploring his building relationship with Lois Lane.  He just wants to find what makes them click as he did with Chloe.  However different it may be, he thinks he’s beginning to enjoy it. 

Clark orders overpriced sodas, popcorn, and a platter of chili fries for himself before returning to his date.  The pricings, of course, are never a problem for him.  Still, places like this, or any sports arena, the prices for concessions could be more reasonable.  He sucks in a breath as he returns to the chaotic crowd.  He pauses just briefly as a monster truck does a front axle wheelie.  The monster truck holds that pose for a good ninety seconds before it bounces back to its original position. 

“Wow, not bad,” Clark says.  He isn’t focusing his hearing, so he can’t even hear his own voice over the crowd.  He returns to Lois. 

“Oh, my God, Smallville!” exclaims Lois.  She rushes to meet him halfway.  “Carrying too much?” she chirps as she relieves him of one of the sodas and the tub of popcorn.  She sips it experimentally.  “Coca Cola, and I didn’t even tell you what kind of soda I liked.”

“Actually, you did,” Clark corrects her over the crowd.  “I’ve known you all of five months and I never see you drink any soda other than a Coke.”

Lois stares at him for a minute before nodding approvingly.  Clark does like the way she looks this evening.  She seems to have missed a session of dying her hair, so its natural black is showing through.  It’s giving her hair a more pronounced “dirty blonde” look that he might suggest she keep.  She’s not wearing any earrings, but that’s okay. 

As for her clothes, on account of the cold weather outside, she’s wearing a light tan pea coat over a buttoned black sweater that hugs her form.  Her high-heeled boots over her jeans look very uncomfortable for this event. 

He’s heard her complain about her appearance more than once, particularly her breasts, but he doesn’t see anything wrong with her.  He’s not innocent of staring at the highlights of a woman’s body, but he doesn’t really have a preference in body types.  Chloe is curvy with small breasts.  Lois is athletic with larger breasts.  It doesn’t matter to him because it’s like a book.  You can’t judge it by its cover. 

Although, Clark would say that Chloe Sullivan and Lois Lane are two very physically attractive young women.  Suddenly, she removes the straw from her lips.  “GRAVE DIGGER!”

Clark winces as he turns toward the arena again.  He recognizes the monster truck immediately.  It’s not because he follows monster truck events, but simply because the Grave Digger is such an iconic monster truck.  He knows it from remote control toys and wind-up cars from some of the toy sections he had seen growing up. 

Everyone is going nuts for the Grave Digger.  Clark watches as the monster truck goes all over the arena, bouncing around and going airborne more than once.  He even sees the truck do what they call a “backflip.” When the truck approaches this tall ramp relatively slow and speeds up at the last second, sending it in a literal flip. 

Lois already gave up trying to explain to Clark how points are determined.  To be fair, he gave up trying to explain to her how points are determined in dance and figure skating.  Clark is so excited for the next Winter Olympics.  Once upon a time, he wanted to compete but his parents did want him in that kind of international spotlight. 

Doesn’t he already have a big enough spotlight being a Queen?  In fact, word somehow got around that Clark Queen was attending this monster jam and a camera focused on him for several seconds, much to his chagrin.  Lois doesn’t seem to mind the attention that being on a date with Clark Queen is giving her.  She doesn’t relish in it either, which he likes.  It’s a quality that he wishes he could have seen in more of his dates.

Dawn Stiles is one of the many girls who keep trying to win him over.  Based on what he’s seen, she would _love_ to be in the spotlight dating him would grant her. 

Clark watches the monster truck as it nearly falls onto its back.  It’s done for…or maybe not.  The truck revs its engine and it starts spinning like crazy.  The force it sends the truck flying back into its upright position and Clark allows himself a gentle applause at the feat.  Lois, on the other hand, is going nuts over it.

“Did you see that?  Did you fucking see that?” she keeps screaming, pointing vigorously at the truck.

 _Jeez, she’s like a little girl at Disneyland_ , he says to himself.He also saw how it took a chunk of the truck’s covering off with it.  At this point, the truck is barely holding itself together.  Even the headlights are gone.  According to what he can manage from the announcer, this is the driver’s first time driving this particular truck. 

It’s his first time and he sure is trashing the poor vehicle.  The covering completely breaks free of the truck and all is left is the pale green frame.  The truck stops and the crowd’s cheering, if possible, intensifies.

The Grave Digger scored near perfect and won first place.  Clark has no idea how it was all scored.  He saw some really cool feats.  There were plenty of crashes too, some of which involved lost wheels.  What he thought was really cool were the multiple backflips.  These are big trucks and yet they seen so aerodynamic. 

At least Lois agreed to leave early so that they could beat the traffic. 

“Now tell me that wasn’t fun,” she says confidently as they look for his Cadillac in the parking lot. 

Clark considers his answer.  “Okay, I admit that was pretty cool.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go over with you how points are determined?” offers Lois. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to help you see how points are determined in figure skating?”

Lois scoffs.  “You know I really think the whole thing about ‘points’ in figure skating of all things is incredibly unfair.  All I can really see are when one of them falls.  I know that that doesn’t happen very often, but why can’t people just enjoy the show?  Why can’t people just forget about the points and the medals and just worry about which one is your favorite performance?”

Clark stares at her, impressed.  He laughs briefly.  “I guess I never thought of it just like that.  Sure there are the falls, the wardrobe malfunctions and the subtle struggles in posture…” he registers Lois’ bored look.  “Yeah, you’re right.  It’s time for me to shut up.”

They find his car and Clark is thankful to be getting out of the place.  He hates traffic.  In fact, he hates driving altogether.  He’s been told that he’s a great driver, but for him it’s only out of convenience.  Places like this it would look strange if Clark Queen is not arriving in a car.

He reaches for his door, but Lois stops him.  He locks eyes with her.  At the same time, he realizes how uncomfortably close she is to him. 

“Thanks a lot for this date, Clark,” she whispers in earnest.  “I know technically this was my date to plan, but you did surprise me with those tickets.  I haven’t been able to go to a monster jam in two years.”  She reaches up with a delicate, gloved hand and cups his cheek.

“Lois…” Clark hears himself say, but he’s not sure how he planned on finishing that thought.

Before he can register what’s happening, Lois reaches up on her toes and her eyes flutter shut.  Soon, her lips are pressed against his.  For a moment, he remembers his awful encounter when Lois was possessed by that witch, but that discomfort is soon replaced by something entirely different. 

His own eyes flutter shut and he realizes his hands are encircling Lois’ waist.  The kiss deepens as he feels Lois’ tongue seeking entrance into his mouth.  His first instinct is to bite her like he did last time, but as he grants her access all he can do is caress it with his own.

He doesn’t taste a trace of nicotine.  Has she completely gotten over her nicotine addiction?  Or is she lapsing, only for her addiction to come back with a vengeance sometime in the future? 

Clark doesn’t care at the moment.  All he cares about is this beautiful, annoying young woman pressed against him in this very public place.  His keen ears are picking up movement around them.  No doubt a few people are stopping to briefly watch this little encounter.  Still, his mind is flooded with Lois. 

At long last, the kiss breaks.  Clark’s eyes swim back into focus to see Lois staring up at him.  He never realized just how beautiful her hazel-green eyes are.  They have more subtle quality to them than his ex-girlfriend’s eyes.  Not better or worse, just satisfyingly different. 

Lois’ lust-filled gaze soon morphs into worry.  Why? 

“Why are you crying?” she asks. 

Clark finally realizes his cheeks are wet with his own tears.  He breaks away from Lois and wipes his eyes roughly.  “Sorry, I don’t know, it’s just…”

Lois smiles soberly.  “It’s because I’m your ex-girlfriend’s cousin.”

There’s no lying to this woman.  He nods softly.

“Clark, I’d be lying if I told you I was completely comfortable with this,” Lois comforts.  “In fact, all this actually makes me feel like a backstabbing bitch.  Chloe says she’s comfortable with it, but I’m not sure I am.  Yet, for some reason, I like you, Clark Queen.  You’ve somehow become that guy that I can spend all week hating and yet I feel more comfortable around you than I have with pretty much any other guy I’ve met.”

She stops mid-tirade to catch her breath.  “I don’t know why, and maybe I just want to piss off my dad, but I really want to make something special out of this.  So may we?  May we please take this and see where it goes?”

Clark studies her for a minute or two.  He agrees with a lot of what she’s saying.  Sometimes, he feels like “bitch” is a fitting description for her.  Actually, she sometimes seems like the kind of woman who would take it as a compliment. 

Yet…perhaps even he is willing to see where this goes.  “Kiss me again…and you’ll have your answer,” he finally replies softly.    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that went well for everyone. I won’t make any promises as to how things heat up with Clois, but there will be setbacks as Clark figures out how to be completely open with Lois. 
> 
> I'm sure everyone is curious as to where Lex is in muddling over his father's last words, but I wanted to end this chapter on a good, un-suspenseful note. 
> 
> Cheers!
> 
> And I watched a few monster jam videos to get an idea of what they look like.


	35. Chapter Thirty-Four

_December 14 th, 2001_

_Clark’s been awfully quiet lately.  Ever since he met with that old lady at the nursing home some weeks back, it’s like a new kind of weight has been placed on his shoulders.  Every time he thinks no one is looking, I catch him giving them this forlorn look.  His mother asked what was wrong over dinner one night._

_Clark tried to say there was nothing wrong._

_I gently said “Bullcrap.”_

_When we did get him talking, he said the old lady had a strange meteor power.  She was blind as a bat, yet she could see the future.  When she touched Clark, Clark caught a glimpse.  He was surrounded by an endless graveyard of those he cares about and more.  From what he could tell, it was a way of suggesting that he’s destined—or rather_ doomed _—to outlive everyone he’s ever known, or ever will know._

_It was one of those times that Laura and I could do nothing but share a look from across the table.  We didn’t have anything to say.  At least, there didn’t seem to be anything that we could say that would alleviate Clark’s growing pain about who he is.  What can we say?  That Clark should be thrilled about the likelihood of an indefinite lifespan?_

_That would awful!  He would be watching everyone grow old and die over and over again. Even if he finds someone to share his life with for fifty, sixty years he would outlive them.  If his genes don’t guarantee his children having a similar lifespan as him, he’ll just watch them die too.  Maybe he will find someone with a similar lifespan as him._

_The only person I know who seems to be immortal is Diana Prince.  She’s a beautiful woman, outrageously beautiful, but Clark already knows her too well for her to be someone he might end up loving one day._

_Whether it’s one person, or a few, Clark will find somebody to share at least a few decades of his life with._

_Moving on, something else happened recently that has me on edge.  A former employee of the LuthorCorp plant that Lex runs, Earl Jenkins (who is also an old friend of Jonathan’s) stormed the place while Clark and his classmates were on a field trip.  I was just finishing up an important meeting with some new businesspeople from Seoul, when I received a call.  As soon as I heard that students were being held hostage in the LuthorCorp plant, I cancelled my next meeting and drove straight back to Smallville.  Laura, who had been with Lex with a meeting of her own, beat me there._

_As soon as I arrived, Laura calmed down.  At least she calmed down enough, considering the situation.  Lex said that Earl Jenkins was going on about a sublevel 3.  Concerned for the only son I had left, Lex and I managed to convince Earl to release the hostages in exchange for us._

_When we got inside, much to my annoyance, Clark stayed.  That aside, when I saw Earl, I knew immediately what was wrong.  He was having seizures.  Not just any kind of seizures, but seizures that had him jerking so fast his body literally became a blur.  At least, that’s my best way to describe it._

_I have seen it happen before.  It can happen from prolonged exposure to meteor rocks.  Earl Jenkins is a hired hand who worked for Jonathan Kent turned janitor at LuthorCorp._

_We busted through the sealed off elevator only to find out that it was empty.  All traces of whatever was down there, something that had to do with using meteor rocks to speed up the growth of crops, was all gone.  I wish there was something my scientists could devise, but so far if people are as bad as Earl Jenkins, who died sadly, it’s a death sentence.  So far, we haven’t found a way to extract the radiation from victims’ bodies._

_All of it makes me furious.  I forced Lex to tell me the truth.  The young man should know that I am not an easy man to lie to, and I hate being lied to.  He revealed that yes there was a sublevel 3 which was used for meteor rock experimentation.  He has his own lawyers to defend him, so there would a be a mess before we reached the settlement I would like.  The settlement I wanted was Lex would reveal what he’s been doing and offer a formal apology, as well as providing full compensation for Earl Jenkins’ family._

_Lex didn’t agree to that.  All he would do was the compensation for who he called a “lunatic.”  Technically, there’s nothing I can do about it.  What Lex was doing with the meteor rocks isn’t breaking any laws, but why is he being so secretive?  Even Lionel told me that he had no clue of the experiments.  It was one of the few times I saw the man looking genuinely surprised._

_In a rare moment of mutual interest, Lionel and I gave Lex a stern warning.  If he was going to be conducting his own experiments with the meteor rocks, we expect him to better his safety measures.  Earl Jenkins should be shown as a lesson for the young businessman.  If he’s going to make it as a great businessman, he needs to make the welfare of those who work for him a priority._

_Lex Luthor is not a young man who enjoys being scolded, but if he’s going to improve, he’s going to have to learn to listen._

_Also, I can’t tell Clark who to befriend, but I still don’t find his relationship with Lex healthy.  While Clark is just trying to be a friend in the best ways he knows how, Lex…just something about his mannerisms has me put off.  Sometimes I think he’s trying too hard to impress Clark rather than just be friendly._

_Lex obviously thinks very highly of himself—too highly.  Sometimes, the things he does for Clark, like buying him a new car, or getting expensive seats at the next Sharks game, or turning a small get-together into a wild party…I’d like to ask Lex this:  Is he trying to be a friend, or is he just showing how magnificent he can be?_

_I would just like Lex to go a whole week—no_ month­ _—without making some grand gesture.  The sad thing is that, it’s possible that he hasn’t had a friend in so long that he just doesn’t know how to be one.  It’s not as if he had a great teacher._

_I hope that he learns._

“Oliver Queen, get out here now!”

“Not going to happen!” Oliver fires back.  He watches pitifully as his girlfriend skates gracefully on the frozen pond.  He is perfectly content to just watch her.  Plus, while Oliver can be light on his feet—at least he would like to think—he’s not as good as his brother.  Whether it’s ballet, tango, or ice-skating, Clark is just…awesome. 

Also, Oliver is freezing.  Tess is clad in a wrap shearling coat, a black crochet beret, and thermal pants, but Oliver is another story.  Five years on a tropical island, he is no longer adapted to a Kansas winter.  He’s spent most of his time inside the last few months and when he did venture outside, he is usually wearing more clothing than everyone else.

Tess seemed in a particularly good mood today and she wanted to get him out of the house.  Clark is out at the Kent farm enjoying the snow with Lois, Chloe, and Trixie.  Diana stayed at the house, but she’s busy with calls from France.  Oliver was perfectly content to just stay inside and alternate between TV and darts, but then Tess came over. 

She came in all smiles and sunshine and she said she saw this pond a mile or two away from the house earlier.  Oliver knows the pond.  He and Clark used to go swimming in it when they were younger.  Well Tess discovered it and she went out and bought skates.  He tried to suggest something else, but Diana sided with his girlfriend and almost literally threw him out of his own house.

It’s ten degrees Fahrenheit and Oliver doesn’t understand why Tess isn’t suffering from the bitter chill.  From beneath the scarf that he has wrapped around his head, reminding himself of Randy from _A Christmas Story_ , he’s fighting to keep warm.  Chloe Sullivan and Lois Lane don’t seem to mind the chill either. 

Oliver feels bad for his little brother.  Lois Lane is a gorgeous young woman, but she is his ex’s cousin.  Chloe Sullivan and Lois Lane, both are gorgeous, driven, and nosy.  He never voiced it, but Oliver does wonder if his little brother has a nosy girl fetish, or some sort of reporter fetish.  Still, things seem too complicated for Clark and Oliver wishes there was something he could do. 

He does admire his brother, though.  While Clark’s currently trying to ease his way into a relationship with Lois, he and Chloe still care very much about each other.  Oliver would like to ask Chloe how she really feels about Clark and Lois, but it seems that she doesn’t have as big a problem as he would think she does, or should.  When Clark was crying over his breakup, at the same time he seemed a little…hopeful. 

It’s like he and Chloe have decided to “save each other for later.”  When Oliver asked what he meant by that, Clark revealed to him that Chloe is quite possibly immortal.  As for how, Clark said that it might be better to hear that directly from Chloe. It’s been months now and Oliver hasn’t had a chance to satisfy his curiosity. 

He watches Tess now as she jumps, twirls, and lands gracefully on her foot again.  She’s tempting him, he knows it.

Eventually, though, she skates toward him.  Coming to a stop at the edge of the pond, she puts her gloved hands on her hips.  “Oliver Queen, are you really going to make a woman skate all alone?”

“You skate really well; I’ll just make you fall,” answers Oliver from beneath his scarf.

Tess frowns as she puts a hand behind her ear and leans in.  “Sorry, I couldn’t understand you beneath your lousy Arabian getup.”

Oliver scowls as he reaches up, yanks his scarf down and repeats himself loudly. 

Tess rolls her eyes.  “Jeez, five years in the outdoors and suddenly you’re an indoor guy?”

Oliver staggers somewhat.  The way she put, he feels that he’s just lost his manhood.  He _loves_ the outdoors.  He’s just making up for all the time that he had no air conditioning or not having to wake up every morning figuring out how to survive. 

Tess’ face becomes gentler.  She reaches out with her gloved hand.  “Take my hand, Ollie,” she offers softly.  “I don’t care if you make me fall.  You already did that too many times already.”

Oliver is guessing that she’s no longer talking about skating as he stares into her welcoming eyes.  He will never forget how frightened she looked when she told him about her heritage.  Yes, he was shocked to find out that Lionel Luthor is her father.  It wasn’t because he hates Luthors just because they are Luthors, it was just the last thing he ever would have expected to hear from her.  Lionel Luthor might have been her father, but that doesn’t mean she is a Luthor and he told her as much.

When she told him how Lex rejected her, he had never been more pissed with him.  Oliver actually came home one day after the holidays with a bruise on his fist.  Lex upset his girlfriend and his nose had “Punch me” written all over it.  At least that’s how he explained it to Clark and Diana.  Clark high-fived him with his good hand, but Diana wasn’t too impressed with his “boyish” behavior.

Oliver gives Tess’ hand a contemplative look.  Finally, he accepts.  Smiling triumphantly, Tess takes his other hand and she slowly, carefully guides him onto the ice.  Almost immediately, Oliver begins to wobble.  Along with that, the skates are making his feet ache.  He doesn’t understand how people can find these shoes comfortable. 

“Quit looking at your feet,” Tess laughs.  “Just focus on me.”

Oliver tentatively takes his eyes off his feet and tries to focus on his girlfriend.  Earlier, she told him that it’s not unlike using roller skates.  It’s the same basic motion.  When he and Clark would go to a skating rink, all Oliver could do was skate forward.  Clark got backwards skating down in little time.

It all seemed part of their mother’s way of teaching him to control how he uses his body.  Oliver feels like he excelled in controlling his body too.  He just never got very good at dance or skating. 

Tess continues to hold both his hands, her skating backward as he stakes forward.  For a minute, he’s worried about _her_.  She’s skating backwards; she might run into something.  Oliver wants to look over her shoulder to see where they are going, but he can’t seem to take his eyes off her. 

She might seem more tolerant to the bitter cold, but her cheeks are flush with the chill.  He wouldn’t say Tess Mercer is a woman with rosy cheeks, but even her flawless features aren’t immune to the effects of harsh weather.  Yet, she looks like she’s enjoying herself. 

“You think you think you’re going to be okay?” she asks.

Oliver’s eyes widen out of his skull.  “What?”

She smiles confidently.  “I’m going to let go of one of your hands so that I can skate beside you.”

 _Are you nuts?_ Oliver hopes his face is asking.  “I’m going to fall!”

Tess laughs, her breath a series of steam seeping from her mouth.  “You definitely not as brave as the guy I met on that island.  I’m starting to think that I’m dating a chicken.”

Oliver abandons all pretenses about the cold or his timidity as his face darkens.  Normally so…womanly and formal, his nerdy girlfriend took a turn for playfulness.  His features give away his damaged pride, but he doesn’t care.  “I am not a chicken.” 

The increasingly annoying redhead raises an eyebrow quizzically.  “Well then Mr. Not-A-Chicken, on the count of three, I’m going to let go of your left hand.  One…”

“Two…” Oliver counts, feeling a wave of confidence.

“Three,” Tess releases his hand.

Almost immediately, Oliver begins to wobble.  His grip on Tess’ hand tightens into what amounts to a vice grip.  He doesn’t want to hurt her, yet he’s suddenly more afraid of letting go.  He hears her murmuring words of encouragement.  She goes left, he goes left.  He goes right, she goes right.  Even so, he accidentally bumps into her shoulder and nearly loses his grip on her hand a few times before they fall into a steady rhythm. 

In endless circles, they skate on the ice.  Tess is relaxed as ever and Oliver is just fighting to loosen up.  He’s so rigid, so tense, he feels like his whole body is encased in a statue.  He’s been improving his skill at moving quietly through buildings.  He can slip in and out of high security places without making a sound.  Diana has been a huge help, but she won’t let him get anywhere close to LuthorCorp.

He so desperately wants to figure out the secrets that seem to have led up to his father’s death.  Why did he feel that his life was in danger?  What could he have stumbled upon to make him a marked man?  What were all the circumstances that led to his father splitting Queen Industries’ split from LuthorCorp?  So many unanswered questions and even the more connected, Diana says she’s barely scratched the surface.

More because Diana was worried that it was affecting his health, he has forced himself to not focus so hard on it.

“See, Ollie, this can be fun,” says Tess, pulling him out of his thoughts.  “And you seem to be better than you give yourself credit for.” 

“Yeah?” asks Oliver.  “Put me in an obstacle course and I’ll show you what I can be good at.”   Soon though, his attempt at humor is replaced by alarm.  He hears a disturbing sound.  Trying to come to a stop, he stumbles and falls, hitting his head on the ice. 

“Tess, the ice is cracking!” he screams in alarm. 

Tess notices and stops dead in her tracks as the cracking intensifies.  She glances down at her feet before locking eyes with Oliver.  It all happens so fast as the ice gives way and Oliver watches his girlfriend sink into the freezing water with a yelp.

“TESS!” Oliver screams.  The pond isn’t terribly deep, but it’s deep enough to swallow someone Tess’ height.  He’s no longer concerned about the cold.  Shucking off his parka, he dives into the water.  He’s aware that the water is cold enough that it might just freeze up again before he has a chance to resurface, but he can’t let Tess drown.  He finds her thrashing and gasping in the water.  He grasping her and she locks her arms around him as he pushes back to the surface. 

The water has not frozen back up again, thankfully.  Their heads rise out of the water and they gasp for air.  They need to get back to the house.  Quickly.  Oliver wraps the parka around Tess and guides her off the ice.  He’s happy they used the four-wheeler to get here.  He mounts it and Tess follows suit, gripping him tightly as she shivers violently.  He’s shivering too, but he needs to get them home.  He starts the ATV and it doesn’t take long for the snow tires to gain traction as he sets the vehicle in motion. 

He pushes the thing to its limit, but he wishes it would go a bit faster.  His teeth are chattering and it’s becoming more difficult to take deep breaths.  What little warmth provided by Tess pressed against him seems compromised by the fact that they are both wet.  His eyes water against the wind, but he feels that they are quickly icing up.  His house soon comes into view and he almost beckons for it to come to him like a puppy. 

If he was the only one trying to outrun hypothermia, he would, but a woman that he cares about is also trying to outrun hypothermia. 

Almost as soon as he reaches the large driveway, he turns off the ATV and guides Tess back into the house. 

“A-aunt D-d-di, w-we need help,” Oliver manages to call out.  No answer.  Great, there’s no one home.  Against Tess’ protests, he guides her to the closest bathroom and turns the faucet on the bathtub.  Just as frantically, he leaves her to undress and step into the bath. 

 _She’s going to need dry clothes_ , Oliver thinks.  He knows there’s a clean bathrobe in the bathroom closet.  He could toss it in the dryer for a few minutes.

“Oliver, g-get o-out of here and get out of those clothes before you freeze!” Tess shrieks.

Figuring that it’s better to just listen to her, Oliver rushes to his bathroom.  As soon as he is in, he starts filling up the bathtub.  It then takes him about five or ten minutes to peel off his soaking clothes.  When he finally rids himself of his clothes, he takes a tentative step into the water.  He yelps as his foot touches the water.

His skin is so cold that what is normally a pleasant scald is now a pot of boiling water.  He counts to thirty before trying again.  The water still feels a little too hot, but he pushes through.  Reminding himself that he’s suffered worse than this, he grits his teeth as the water envelopes his body.  Even after he settles himself in the water, it takes another few minute before he stops shaking. 

He remembers when he first returned to Kansas, he couldn’t even stand warm showers.  He had been deprived of the ability to control the heat of water, that he anything above what should be considered a freezing shower hurt his skin.  It took him a few weeks to ease back into the feel of a warm shower.  Even then, he found himself loving the bitterness of a cold shower.   Somehow, the cold reminded him of all that he has lost. 

Weirdly enough, he has grown to find some of the things that he has gained.  One of them is that redhead in the guest bathroom. 

When he feels that he’s soaked himself long enough, he rises out of the bathtub and drains it.  After drying himself off a bit, he wraps himself in his green bathrobe.  As he heads out of the bathroom, he doesn’t even stop to grab some dry clothes as he heads back downstairs. 

He finds Tess, who is also in a bathrobe, in the kitchen putting the kettle on the stove.  While she occupies herself with that, Oliver heads to the living room and grabs the matches from the mantelpiece to start a fire in the fireplace.  His first instinct these days are to strike flint or rub wood together, but he’s figured out how to use matches when they are available.

Within minutes, the fireplace is alight with a fire.  Oliver carefully sets a few logs in the fireplace and steps back to admire it for a minute.  The house is pretty old and its fireplace isn’t electric.  Still, Oliver doesn’t feel that his home captures the…oldness of the Kent house.  Perhaps the fact that Robert Queen was the first to live in this house has something to do with it.  Even the Luthor mansion doesn’t have that sense of historic appeal as the Kent house. 

Oliver has memorized all of the things that once belonged to one of Jonathan Kent’s ancestors before he became the owner. 

As he settles onto one of the couches, Tess soon joins him.  She offers him a mug of hot chocolate with marshmallows and cream.  Smiling, Oliver accepts it.  After blowing on it a little, he takes a careful sip.  It’s still a bit hot, but it doesn’t burn his tongue.  Soon, he sets the mug down on a coaster on the coffee table and puts his face in his hands.  Tears he didn’t know he was holding back pour to the surface. 

It’s not until he feels soft hands wrap around his shoulders that he realizes he’s shaking.  Not from chills, but from tears that have built into sobs. 

“Oliver, what’s wrong?” he hears Tess ask. 

He lifts his face from his hands slowly.  Through his blurred vision, the green orbs of Tess’ eyes are two grassy meadows that he swears he’s seen in his dreams once or twice. 

“I almost lost you,” he wails.

Tess scoffs lightly as she rubs his shoulders.  “I just fell through some thin ice and you pulled me out.”

Oliver shakes his head violently.  “No, I can’t—I _can’t_ lose you!”

Tess frowns.  “Oliver, what are you saying?” she asks softly. 

Oliver breathes heavily.  “I love you,” he says.  As soon as it is out of his mouth, he realizes that it’s the first time that he’s said those words.  More confidently, he repeats, “God, Tess, I love you.  I love you way too much and I just risked drowning in a frozen pond and then freezing to death to save you.  I’m not my brother, Tess.  I’m not invulnerable to effects of heat and cold, but I dove into freezing water anyway.  I think I’m actually a bit crazier than the guy you found on that island.  And…somehow you’ve become the medicine I need after coming home to discover my parents died in a plane crash.” 

Oliver doesn’t understand what’s going on.  All he knows is that he’s pouring his feelings out at lightning speed and he can’t stop himself. 

Tess just stares, not saying a word. 

 _Oh, God did I just freak her out?_ Oliver wonders.  As if in answer, he feels Tess’ hands begin to slide away from their position around his shoulders.  He sits frozen, not even daring to breathe as Tess cups his face.  Then he watches as she leans in.  He closes his eyes and shudders as he feels something wet press against his cheek.  Her tongue.  His shudders intensify as she drags her tongue up in a slow and deliberate motion, collecting the salt of his tears. 

He desperately wants to grasp her, but doesn’t want her to stop what she’s doing as she repeats the action on his other cheek.  Very slowly, she presses several kisses all over his forehead, his eyes, his cheeks, his nose, and even his ears.  She gives particular attention to his ears as she alternates between kissing, licking and nibbling.

All he can do is sit and let her explore him, not even allowing himself to twitch as her hair tickles his skin.  He feels heat rush to his groin as his member stiffens from beneath the fluffy fabric of his bathrobe.  Finally, Tess’ lips press against his. 

At last, he allows his hands to reach out and grasp her, one hand wrapping around her waist and the other around her neck.  He feels something soft and creamy reach out and wrap around one of his legs.  It’s her leg.  Then he feels Tess pushing against him as their tongues tangle and swirl within each other’s mouths. 

They have kissed before, but Oliver hasn’t really let them get beyond groping each other.  For a long time, he’s been embarrassed by the scars on his upper body.  For some reason, he’s abandoning those pretenses right now as he settles on his back.  Tess’ body, clad in nothing but a bathrobe covers his despite her smaller size.  She’s not as small as Clark’s best friend/ex-girlfriend, nor is her breasts as large as Lois Lane’s.  Despite those seemingly unavoidable observations, he loves the feel of Tess Mercer. 

Her hair cascades around his face as they continue to kiss, their hands roaming all over each other’s covered bodies.  Tess’ legs seem to have worked free of the bathrobe and are now straddling his hips.  His hands settle on her bare legs and she whimpers into his mouth. 

In turn, he feels her hands roam between them.  Her hands wrap around the straps holding his bathrobe together.  She breaks away from him and both of them breathe heavily as they gaze into each other’s eyes.  Then she slowly unfastens the robe.  Now that it’s undone, her hands return to his shoulders and begin to push the robe off of him.  He sits up to help her. 

A slight chill touches his skin as they discard his robe.  That chill has nothing to do with the temperature in the room.

Tess’ eyes roam over his bare body for a few seconds, carefully drinking in the sight of him.  Her eyes return to his her hand presses against his chest.  Oliver watches as her eyes flutter shut for a minute as she inhales deeply.  He can feel his own heart pounding against her hand.

Then, she applies a little pressure and he lies back down.  Still in her bathrobe which is now loose, exposing the hills of her breasts and all the way down to the beginnings of her shaven sex, she leans over him.  Oliver lies still as she explores his body with delicate touches of her hands.  Goosebumps follow in the wake of his scars as Tess traces them with a long fingernail. 

He can’t decide which she is doing more of—teasing him or just slowly taking in every inch of his body.  Soon, she tucks her hair behind her ear as she leans in closer.  Her tongue presses against him gently and Oliver throws his head back.  He bites his lips as his body focuses all its attention on the sensations of Tess’ tongue. 

His breath quickens as her tongue and kisses travel lower.  When her tongue reaches the tip of his solid member, Oliver takes a startled intake of breath.  Glancing down, he locks eyes with Tess again as she leans down and her tongue sticks out.  Starting from the base of him, she drags her tongue very slowly from root to the tip of him.

The sensations are quickly driving Oliver insane as Tess repeats the action over and over against.  She cleverly stops for a few seconds, torturing him as she takes him in her hand and squeezes him a little bit.  Her hand is deliciously cold against his fiery member.  Her face disappears in a pile of red hair as she leans down again and her tongue swirls around the tip of him. 

His hands ball into such tight fists that his fingers strain.  _How long must this torture continue?_   As if in answer, he feels her mouth envelope him.  In a slow, controlled motion, her head begins to bob up and down on him.  His mouth can form no words, other than _Tess_ over and over again. 

He feels that he’s about to burst.  However, just as he is about to, Tess lifts her head, releasing him.  Oliver almost whimpers at the loss.  When his eyes swim into focus, he sees her slowly, tantalizing shucking off her robe.  For a minute, he’s transfixed by the sheer beauty of her. 

There have been times when he cynically thought that he might have fallen in love with any woman who saved him from that island, but he’s had plenty of opportunity to move on from Tess.  Once or twice, Felicity tried reconnecting with him.  They went to dinner a few times, but even she can’t compete with Tess. 

Tess leans in again, but Oliver decides it’s his turn to take control.  Taking her by surprise, he sits up and pushes her against the other side of the couch.  Though initially startled, Tess’ surprise is quickly replaced by a lustful gaze as she stares up into Oliver’s eyes. 

“My turn,” he whispers.  Tess stretches out underneath him, inviting his touch.  Oliver accepts the invitation and his lips teasingly graze her erect nipples.  A moan escapes her lips as her head drops back against the throw pillow.  She’s a lot more vocal than he is, and Oliver knows it.  When he returns to her nipple, he slowly grazes his lip, followed by his cheek against it like a cat.  The action elicits a louder moan out of Tess.

“Please, Ollie…” she gasps. 

Feeling obliged, Oliver leans again and takes the nipple between his lips and sucks.  A scream escapes Tess’ lips as her hands fist in his hair, holding him against her.  He can easily overpower her, but he’s enjoying what he’s doing as he moves on to the other nipple.  She’s writhing like a fish underneath him and Oliver finds himself wanting to see that worsen. 

His lips roam downward, stopping a few times to give her skin a few kisses and licks.  As his lips near the juncture between her legs, he places his hands against her thighs and gently spreads them apart.  At the first stroke of his tongue against her, her screams come out in short, staccato bursts.  He licks her again, the same thing happens.  Starting slow, his tongue slowly picks up speed as he swirls against her intimate folds. 

The way Tess shakes underneath him, she might as well be getting electrocuted.  He slows down again, enjoying the whimpers of protest.  Feeling the desire to give her what she clearly wants, he intensifies his licks again and Tess lets out an earsplitting shriek as she comes. 

Oliver takes a moment to give his tongue a rest.  As Tess catches her breath, she lifts her arms and her hands grab his arms and pulls.  Allowing her to pull him towards her, she wraps her legs around him.  Before either of them can comprehend it, Oliver slips inside her, driving a harmonious moan out of them. 

Locking eyes with her, he begins to move within her.  She moves also.  Soon they are moving together in intense counterpoint.  Oliver tries to hold back for as long as possible, but he can’t keep back the orgasm.  It starts low, but soon it reaches the tip.  Wordlessly, their eyes roll into the backs of their heads as they come.  Oliver pumps a few more times, completely filling her with his essence as short gasps escapes them both. 

Pulling out of her, he carefully shifts on the couch so that Tess is on top of them.  Both slick with sweat, they breathe heavily. 

“I love you too, Oliver Queen,” Tess whispers against his chest. 

Oliver lifts his head slightly to plant a kiss atop her head and holds her against him.  He would say something, but there are no longer any words to fully describe what he feels for Tess Mercer.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This and the next chapter are back-to-back.


	36. Chapter Thirty-Five

_January 20 th, 2002_

_I’m finding a lot of reasons to be angry lately.  Lex continues to get on my, and Lionel’s nerves.  It’s not what he does that annoys us; it’s how he does it.  Lionel is considerably more ruthless than I am, but he is a brilliant businessman.  Lex has all the brilliance that could make for a good businessman.  He just comes off as a bit reckless sometimes._

_Maybe it’s not my place to be concerned with how he conducts business. Lionel sent him to Smallville as a chance to learn.  That’s Lionel’s business.  What_ is _my business is Clark’s relationship with Lex._

_Most recently, Clark accompanied Lex to some auction for a breastplate supposedly worn by Alexander the Great.  It’s fascinating, but it’s not the first time I’ve heard of something that allegedly belonged to someone such as Alexander the Great._

_Anyway, that’s not the highlight of the evening.  What was is that Clark stopped a bus from crashing into a bus stop.  The bus wrapped around Clark.  Despite the mess that he helped create, I was impressed._

_The following events are what trouble me.  Some crooked cop names Phelan witnessed the event.  He showed up at the house unannounced while I was working on one of the cars.  It’s a friendly community that has long since welcomed my family as a part of it, but people are still polite about showing up announced or unannounced.  There are plenty of people in town that I’m okay with showing up unannounced.  Not so much with people that I don’t know even by face._

_So this detective shows up at my house, unannounced and begins talking about my son.  If I wasn’t already uncomfortable enough, he said that he needed a favor from Clark.  What could this detective possibly need that requires Clark’s help?  That’s when the detective told me he knew Clark’s secret.  That’s when things started ugly.  I told him to get off my property.  The detective then tried to blackmail me and my son with a surprising amount of incriminating evidence._

_I’m not one to bribe people (other than my friends, such as Jonathan Kent, but we bribe each other with all kinds of things) but Clark is a weakness as well as a strength.  I was in the process of writing the detective a fat check when he told me he didn’t want my money.  Fine.  I was controlling my temper by resorting to bribery.  I then got really close to the detective.  Quietly, I demanded that he leave my property otherwise I would not only impose a restraining order, I would bury him so deep that he would suffocate before he climbed his way out._

_This detective seemed like a man with a lot to lose.  Even with my resources, I was unprepared for what happened next._

_The detective managed to track Clark down to the Kent farm while working one afternoon.  The older Clark gets, the more he fights to keep from lashing out.  He can literally cave someone’s face in if he hits them hard enough.  He could probably crush someone’s neck with his bare hands better than Darth Vader ever could.  Then again, Darth Vader had the assistance of prosthetics._

_Clark later told me that he didn’t fall for the detective’s bribes so easily.  Clark told me that he cleverly asked the detective who would believe him?  And the detective already seemed to have a few problems of his own with his superiors, so why would they listen to him anyway.  In Clark’s very own words, he told the detective, “So why don’t you just take your sorry, desperate ass and leave Smallville.”_

_Clark doesn’t always know the difference between assertiveness and playing with fire.  Literally playing with fire doesn’t hurt him (although Laura wishes he’d be more careful with his expensive clothes).  Playing with fire on a figurative sense, however, is still as dangerous for him as it can be for anyone._

_Well Clark played with fire and it backfired.  Laura and I were visiting Jonathan and Martha for breakfast like we occasionally do when the sheriff dropped by with a search warrant.  I demanded to know what was going on, but the sheriff—and Jonathan—told me to stay out of it.  To everyone’s surprise, a dead body was found on the farm._

_Jonathan was arrested on murder charges.  That couldn’t be true.  Jonathan Kent doesn’t have a homicidal bone in his body!  I swore to him, despite his adamant request for me to stay out of it, that I would get to the bottom of this.  Later, I even offered to pay his bail.  It was very displeasing to hear the sheriff say that Jonathan specifically asked for me to be turned away if I offered to pay his bail, or even just to visit._

_My best friend didn’t want me, or Clark, or even Martha to see him in orange._

_Clark was already upset about Principal Kwan firing Chloe from the Torch, as well as how the principal made Lana Lang the editor, and has been trying to console his best friend.  If he asks me Miss Lang is just using the opportunity to get Clark to warm up to her.  Jonathan being sent to prison on what everyone agrees to be false charges has him fuming._

_Behind his mother and I’s backs, he approached the detective and asked him what he wanted.  I play chess with Clark frequently.  I use the game as a learning tool, teaching him the value of strategizing.  Over the years, he’s become better to the point that our wins and losses are reaching a fifty-fifty level._

_Clark strategized.  He entrapped Detective Phelan by offering what he wanted, but later double-crossed him.  While Clark was in the process of stealing the jeweled breastplate, the police showed up.  That’s also when Clark discovered that he’s bulletproof when the detective tried to shoot him.  Then he blurred away before the police arrived._

_The detective went out shooting._

_Jonathan was released with all charges dropped.  Much to his chagrin, we all talked him into celebrating his freedom.  So, on this chilly January afternoon, we are braving the weather in favor of a cookout.  Much due to Clark’s help, Chloe seems to be feeling better.  She needed the comfort as well as Clark invited her._

_When are those young idiots going to admit their feelings for each other?_

 

“This is your last chance, Smallville!” screams Lois. 

Chloe shares a look with Clark. 

“What do you think, Chlo?” he asks.  “Should we surrender?”

Chloe raises an eyebrow.  “The battle hasn’t even begun.  We’ve always won these battles.  Your girlfriend isn’t going to change that.” 

Clark winces at the word and Chloe fights to not roll her eyes.  Admittedly, even though she called off the romantic aspects of their relationship, she would love to be the one labeled as his girlfriend.  She’s happy for him and Lois, more for Lois because for once she might actually have a decent boyfriend in her life.

Clark snaps out of his momentary discomfort and smiles with her privately.  At least they haven’t changed the way they smile at each other. 

“Lo-Lo, if you think we are giving up just because some _army brat_ is our enemy, then…” he trails off enough for him and Chloe to enjoy Lois’ dangerous scowl.  “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Trixie, these reporters are going to die!” shouts Lois. 

Chloe briefly locks eyes with Trixie.  Trixie winks at her and Chloe averts her eyes to hide her blush.

It’s a snowy day, and they just had to do this.  Chloe hates the snow, but still Clark managed to get her to fall in love with this activity their first winter together. 

Here on the Kent farm, with Jonathan’s permission, Clark took the tractor with the bulldozer blade attached to it and began plowing the snow.  In the process of two hours (it would have taken him less time if it weren’t for Lois and _maybe_ Trixie’s unawareness of Clark’s abilities) he made two parallel mounds of snow.  He then took a shovel and shaped them in a bit of a step-like formation with teeth-like mounds at the top. 

Situated maybe twenty or thirty feet away from each other, Clark created two snow forts.  For the longest time, Jonathan made them, the Clark helped make them, and finally Clark is the one who makes them.  Jonathan and Martha are just the referees.

Martha bundled to the teeth in a parka and crocheted hat steps between the forts, or No-Man’s Snow-Land. 

Clark and Chloe shared a smile when Lois asked why they didn’t just call it _Snow_ -Man’s Land.  They were ten years old. 

“Peace-talk has failed!” announces Martha.  “The rules are simple.  When both teammates are hit by a snowball, the other team gains a point.  First team with ten points wins.  Let the battle begin!”  Lois barely waits for her to get out of harm’s way.

The rules are there, but Chloe and Clark know that no one ever listens to the rules.  Clark surprised her when he told her that he didn’t tell Lois that there weren’t any rules.  He and Lois definitely have a bigger banter quality to their relationship.  Chloe knows that that doesn’t make her relationship with Clark bad in comparison.  Bantering just doesn’t work for them.  What works for them works for them and what works between him and Lois works for them respectively. 

Lois and Trixie quickly start throwing snowballs from their fort.

Chloe crouches down with Clark and they face each other. 

“What are we going to do?” asks Clark frantically.

Chloe rolls her eyes.  “Clark, you might have to keep a lid on your powers at the moment, but even without them, you can still make bigger snowballs than all four of us combined.  So quit whining, start making snowballs, and help me throw them at these _amateurs_.”

Clark raises an eyebrow.  “You’re right.  This is our territory.  Whatever shall we do with these uninvited guests?”

Chloe smiles back dangerously.  Now she’s provoked his competitive streak.  “Let’s make them suffer.”  Even at a normal speed, Clark makes snowballs faster than Chloe.  She does her best to keep up with him.  When she has a small pile created, she tentatively peeks over the fort.  Almost immediately, she sees an oncoming snowball from her cousin. 

“Oh, God,” she ducks, barely missing the snowball.  “Clark, remind me why we opted to leave out the capture-the-flag aspect of this battle.”

“Less chance of Lois hurting herself trying to get past me,” Clark reminds her as he throws a snowball the size of a grapefruit. 

“AHH!” Chloe doesn’t even try to hide her smile at the unmistakable sound of Lois’ squeal.  It could be partially contributed to Clark’s smile.  At least Lois is smart enough to know how infectious Clark’s smile is.

“I’m going to kill you!” screams Lois. 

“I’m counting on it!” Clark shouts back.   

Clark is right.  If capture-the-flag were involved, Lois would hurt herself again before she remembers to not try and hit Clark. 

Chloe’s humor is cut short as she misjudges her timing from rising from behind the fort.  A snowball lands square in her chest.  Trixie and Lois whoop triumphantly and bump fists with a “Booyah!”

Clark might have made a good choice in not pairing himself with Lois.  They would have spent too much time bickering.  Chloe would like to see them interact more so that they can have fun without bickering.

On and on, both teams continue to throw snowballs at each other.  Clark and Chloe have done this more times, so they don’t just toss snowball after snowball.  They plan and wait for the moments when Lois and Trixie stop to catch their breaths.

Then they both rise from the safety of their snow forts and throw as many snowballs as they can.  As each team gets hit with a snowball at least ten times, Lois and Trixie seem to have gotten the hint.  There are no rules other than to have fun.

Without meaning to, Chloe finds herself aiming most of her snowballs at Lois.  Really, it’s not unlike any other competition that they have found themselves on opposing teams.  The only difference is who Lois is involved with.  Clark and Lois have had a few steady dates and Lois tentatively told her about the kiss she shared with Clark.

Chloe, in all honesty, wanted to rip her cousin’s lips off.  Not just because she kissed Clark, but because of how Lois told it.  Chloe founding herself _wishing_ Lois would have been smug about it, instead of the apologetic babbling she had to endure.

Clark’s not much better, but in some ways, Chloe feels that he knows her in ways that Lois does not.  When he talked about it, he recognized when they were making each other uncomfortable.  He said he enjoyed it and left it at that.  They both agreed months ago to not compare each other’s new relationships with their own, but it’s Lois. 

Of all the guys in the world, why did Lois have to ask out Clark?  Part of Chloe feels that by dating Lois, Clark still has a part of her with him.  It would seem less painful to go for a girl who has no relation to her, or even has a similar personality, but maybe it’s because Lois is related to her that he’s agreed to date her. 

She will never forget how upset he was when she broke off their romantic relationship, or at least put it on an indefinite hold.  Maybe she knew how painful it was for him because it was just as painful for her. 

Chloe has done this snowball fight enough times that she can think about other things and still focus on the fight.  Other than Clark restraining himself, it’s relatively fair fight.  Out of all of them though, Trixie seems to be the most uncomfortable.  Not about being here, but more about the weather.  The girl came from the seemingly perpetual decent weather of Los Angeles and this is her first Kansas winter. 

She said she’s been to worse.  She lived in Ohio for a while when she says you can get all kinds of weather in a single day.  A part of Chloe finds that relatively exciting.  A place where the weather can’t make up its mind might even make for a good story.  Chloe doesn’t even interest herself with weather.  Perhaps it interests her because of Trixie. 

Chloe’s fast-paced thoughts are cut short as a snowball hits her square in the face.  The impact makes her lose her balance and she falls backward into the snow.

“ _Chloe!_ ” Clark screams in alarm. 

It takes a moment or two for Chloe’s eyes to swim back into focus.  When she regains her senses, she finds herself cradled in Clark’s arms and a pair of baby blue eyes staring down at her.  He’s panting hard and all his features are marred by worry. 

She really wishes that he would stop looking at her like that.  Every time she _thinks_ he has moved on, something like this happens and…all she can think is that old habits die hard. 

“Chloe, I’m so sorry, are you okay?” asks Lois.  Chloe cranes her neck and sees her cousin rushing over to her. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” replies Chloe as Clark helps her to her feet.  “Good throw though.”

Trixie joins them as well and the four of them share glances.  “Looks like Team Trois are the winners,” announces Clark.

In perfect unison, Lois and Trixie cross their arms.  “Is _that_ the best you can come up with?” asks Trixie.

“Unless you’d prefer ‘Lixie’,” Clark fires back.

Chloe covers her mouth to stifle her giggles as Lois and Trixie exchange a glance. 

“Whatever, but now I’m freezing, I’m covered in snow, and I want to go inside and drink something hot,” says Lois.

“Sounds like a good idea,” agrees Clark.  “I’ll meet all of you inside.”

He heads for the house and Trixie follows after him.  Before Lois can leave however, Chloe stops her.  “Lois, can I talk to you for a minute?  In private?”

Lois looks back at her indignantly.  “Alright, fine, but make it quick.”

Chloe starts walking aimlessly and Lois falls into step beside her. 

“What do you think of Clark?” asks Chloe.

Lois pauses for a minute, probably taken aback by the question.  “He’s…a Russian doll.  Every time I think I’ve unscrewed one layer, I just find another one below it.  He’s polite, sweet, rich, and well-mannered all wrapped in a mystery.”

Chloe smiles inwardly.  It’s not unlike what she used to think of him before he told her his secret.  “And do you like him?”

Lois stops in her tracks.  “I’m sorry Chloe, where are you going with this?”

“It’s a simple question, Lo,” she reminds her.  “Do you like Clark Queen or not?”

“Chloe, I’m not sure that I feel comfortable with this conversation,” protests Lois.  “I’m going inside.” 

Chloe scowls into her cousin’s retreating back.  “Then you do not deserve to be with my ex-boyfriend!”

Lois stops abruptly.  She turns around slowly.  There’s a dangerous spark in her eyes that Chloe has never provoked before.  She doesn’t care at the moment.  “Excuse me?” she asks quietly.

“I said you…don’t…deserve…to be…with my ex-boyfriend,” Chloe repeats slowly.  “Not if you can’t even tell me whether you like him or not.” 

Lois scoffs.  “Don’t even start with me, Chloe.  _You’re_ the one who broke up with him.”

“But I will always be protective of him.  You’ve chickened out of too many relationships and I _will not_ let you do that to Clark!”

“Chloe, you’re being ridiculous.  Let’s just go…”

“RIDICULOUS!” Chloe screams, making her cousin jump.  “Ridiculous?  Lois Lane, what’s ridiculous is that you and Clark can even make eye contact with each other while I am in the room.”

“We just don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” explains Lois.  “I’m not going to be one of those bitches who carries Clark Queen around like a trophy.”

Chloe laughs bitterly.  “Lois, there’s parading Clark around like he’s something that you won and I lost and there’s doing what you’re doing—being afraid to so much as hold hands when I am in the room.  You and I both know that I’ll always care about Clark on some level, but why can’t you just act like someone who actually enjoying the man she’s dating?

“You’re not doing me any favors by putting an invisible wall between you and Clark when I’m around.  He really does like you, Lois.  We’ve made our peace with each other when it comes to you, but you can’t even let him all the way in.  He might be a Russian doll, but he’s been gradually letting you in.  You, you have a heart-to-heart with him once in a while and then it’s all back to cheeky, witty, I’m-afraid-to-open-up, Lois Lane. 

“He buys you those monster truck jam tickets because he knows you like those things.  But answer me this, Lois:  Do you keep doing them because it saves you from having a real conversation?”

Chloe has never exploded like this, at least not on her favorite cousin.  But Clark is important to her and she will die before she lets another girl break his heart, least of all, her own cousin.  She also sees something she rarely sees.  Tears are beading in Lois’ eyes. 

“You’re right, Chloe,” she confesses.  “I am afraid of opening up to Clark.  Not just because he’s your ex, but simply because he’s a great guy and the less we open up to each other, the less it will hurt if our relationship doesn’t work out.”

“You’re hurting him by keeping that impassible wall between the two of you,” Chloe counters bluntly.  It’s all quite hypocritical, considering Clark’s secrets, but Lois doesn’t have _those_ kinds of secrets.  Still, if Lois would just open up more, Clark might eventually trust enough to show her his secrets.  Lord knows, Clark wishes he didn’t have to be so secretive.  Chloe sees him brighten up just a little more whenever he finds someone trustworthy enough to know about his abilities.  Still, it’s a very small list. 

Lois sighs heavily.  “Will it really please you if I’m a little less hot and cold with Clark?”

“It’ll make me want to hurt you less,” offers Chloe.

Lois laughs.  “Well, considering how vicious I’ve seen you get when it comes to Clark, I do believe that you could actually beat me in a fight.”

 _I had a really good teacher_ , Chloe says mentally.  Clark would put on his blue meteor rock-buckled bet and he would train her to fight.  In a fair fight, she eventually managed to best _him_.  Lois’ fighting skills are more based on what she’s picked up from Army bases and street fighting.  Dirtier, but Chloe likes her chances. 

“I’ll open up to Clark more.”

“You promise?”

“Promise, now let’s go inside; I’m freezing out here.”

Together, the two cousins walk back to the yellow house.  Chloe swears she can feel some of the tension between them lessen.  Things might never stop being complicated, but at least she and her cousin keep their promises with each other.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was blowing off a lot of steam with this chapter. I'm pretty much on the same level as Lois and Chloe in terms of making peace. Still, I meant this story to be a challenge, and challenging it is.


	37. Chapter Thirty-Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewatched Ten Things I Hate About You and got inspired by a one particular scene. Anyhow, please enjoy. To certain friends of mine, I hope this is an improvement from the previous chapter. This is also one of the few chapters where Robert's journal entry is directly related to the rest of the chapter.

_March 8 th, 2002,_

_Clark won’t stop talking about Chloe Sullivan.  Chloe this, Chloe that.  “Have you seen Chloe’s outfit today?”  “How is she able to talk a mile a minute and still look absolutely adorable all at the same time?”_

_He says he’s not in love, but Laura and I beg to differ.  A month ago, they kissed.  Actually, Chloe kissed him and she doesn’t even remember it.  A meteor freak with the power of persuasion gave Clark and Chloe a little demonstration while they were off Scully-and-Muldering around, the way they tend to.  The man shook her hand and convinced her to kiss Clark.  Clark was totally blindsided—his words—but he ended up kissing her back.  From the way he spoke about it, it must have been quite intense.  He was also very sad because all Chloe could say was “Why is my mouth minty?”_

_I had to hold back my startled laughter, for fear of making it look like I didn’t care, or that I was teasing him._

_This gentleman wasn’t the only fellow with the power of persuasion.  Another man, a Rickman fellow, used his own power to buy off Jonathan’s farm out from under him.  Jonathan Kent wouldn’t sell his farm if I offered him my entire fortune!  If that wasn’t bad enough, Rickman is a businessman who has made a name for himself in the pesticide business.  He also has a reputation for ludicrously low safety measures and seems to leave devastation everywhere he goes from cancer due to chemicals releases to environmental nightmares._

_And he’s also just another one of the meteor freaks that Clark has thwarted.  The man who convinced Chloe to kiss Clark however, Clark has mused that he seems to be the first meteor freak he’s met who isn’t a psychopath._

_That does bring something up.  I was meeting with Gabe one day and he had something to tell me.  Chloe had accidentally sliced herself quite badly while attempting to chop an onion.  Kitchen injuries are awful and they can ruin an otherwise pleasant cooking experience, but that wasn’t what troubled Gabe.  The cut on Chloe’s hand healed over—not even leaving a scar—in less than an hour._

_Privately, I convinced Chloe to do a screening.  What I found out was remarkable.  She has a huge amount of meteor rock focused around her heart.  I don’t know all that means for her, but among other things, she heals very fast and she’s immune to most poisons.  It must have had something to do with the fact that she and her mother were driving not far from where the meteors struck all those years ago.  It also helps that she’s exposed herself to meteor rocks quite a bit in the last several months._

_I made her swear to not tell Clark right away.  What I didn’t say was that it might be good to wait until such time that she knows_ his _secret.  It’s a secret that he should be the one to tell._

_In other news, Laura has finally unveiled her latest project.  The Clark Foundation is making its debut next week where they will cut the ribbon.  My family goes to heroic lengths to keep our private lives private, but it is common knowledge that Clark is adopted.  Thus, Laura put together a foster care agency for children who have been orphaned due to natural disasters.  We’re quite proud that she’s breathed life into this project, but here’s what no one but she and I know:  It was all Oliver’s idea._

_Oliver absolutely adored his little brother and having him in his life is probably the best gift that Laura and I ever gave him.  Before he knew the full picture of Clark’s background, all he knew was that it was a natural disaster that brought him into our lives, which is perfectly true.  So, he swore that when he took over the company from me, his first project would be introducing a low-cost foster care and welfare agency to the company._

_After he disappeared, one of the things Laura was most depressed about was Oliver dying before he could bring his plans into fruition.  She was going to guide him when he needed it.  Her way of honoring him has been unveiling this foundation.  Originally, she wanted to call it the Oliver Queen Foundation, but as much as it was his idea, and that it’s his memory we are honoring, it’s really all because of our adopted son from under another sun._

_When we told Clark the news, his reaction was…expected I’ll admit.  He was sad.  For him, hearing this news and the story behind it was like peeling off a scab.  Clark is still affected by his brother not being here.  Still, he promised to be there for the unveiling and that he would smile for the cameras._

_I’m not sure any of our smiles will be genuine.  It’s one family photo where Oliver should be with us.  I really hope that the tabloids don’t make a fuss about it._

“Clark, I’ll buy you an ice cream cake if you tell me where we are going,” Lois offers with a hopeful grin. 

Clark rolls his eyes as he drives them through the countryside towards Metropolis.  “Tempting, but I’ll say it again.  It’s a surprise.”  He doesn’t hide his smile as Lois grumbles.

Things have been going remarkably smooth for them the last few weeks.  He doesn’t know what happened, but it’s like Lois removed this emotional barrier that she had been holding between them.  She’s still about as much an open book as he is, but at least she’s not keeping him at arm’s length.

He wonders if Chloe had something to do with it.  His biggest worry—or at least one of his biggest worries—about Lois is how it affects his relationship with Chloe.  Chloe reassured him that she’s okay with his budding attraction to Lois, but he wasn’t sure how Lois felt about it. 

Whatever the reason, he’s happy to see her becoming more open.  They have learned a few things about each other. 

Out of respect, Clark wouldn’t ask, but he suspects that her previous relationships would have had her bribing them with sexual favors.  A week or two ago, things quickly became really awkward when Lois tried to get him to see a Whitesnake concert with her with the promise of a blowjob.  Two things—one, he felt that it was a bit too early in their relationship for _those_ kinds of favors, and two, sexual favors as a bribe tend to make him uncomfortable.

So, Lois has clearly been trying to figure out other ways to bribe him.  He usually says no, if only because her grumbles and whining about not getting what she wants are quite entertaining.  Sometimes, though, she gets a little aggressive and not in the best way.

When he refused to let her drive his car—mostly because of her aggressive driving and screaming at other drivers—she threw a fit.  She didn’t slap him like he thought she would.  At least, she figured out she can’t seem to hit him in any way without hurting herself. 

The only hint that Clark would give about their date is that they wouldn’t be alone. 

“Oh, so we’re meeting some people for a double date?” she asked before they left.

“Not exactly,” he replied.

An hour or so into their trip, Clark has quickly learned that Lois Lane is not one for surprises.  That’s going to have to change.  Otherwise, she will set herself up for a lot of frustration.  Once in a while, it can be entertaining, but if it’s going to be a regular thing, it can be a source of annoyance. 

He’s convinced himself that the best way to preserve the memory of his romance with Chloe is to not compare her with Lois, but it is something that he’s still trying to remind himself of. 

“Since it seems like we are going to Metropolis, can you tell me which part of the city we are going to?” asks Lois. 

Clark smirks.  “I can, but I won’t.”

“Are we going to Suicide Slums?” asks Lois, ignoring his remark.

“No.”

“Are we going to the financial district?”

“No.”

“Richer neighborhood?”

“No.

“Poorer neighborhood?”

“ _No_.”

“Business district?”

 _Be patient with her,_ Clark mentally reminds himself.  “Lois, do you know the meaning of a surprise, or did you skip that class?” he doesn’t raise his voice, but he made an effort to be firm.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lois throws up her hands.  “Sorry, I just don’t want to end up in a deathtrap.”

A startled hiccup of laughter bursts from Clark’s lips.  “A deathtrap?” he repeats incredulously.  “Lois Lane, if I wanted you to _end up in a deathtrap_ , there are plenty of things that I could have done right in my backyard.”

“Really, like what?” challenges Lois, although she sounds mildly curious.

“I could duct tape you between a couple of poles and use you for target practice with my throwing knives and bow.”

“That sounds exciting.  What else?”

“I could politely ask you to lie still as I get out the lawnmower,” where is this sadism coming from?

“Gruesome.  What else?”

A light bulb blinks in Clark’s head and a smile spreads across his lips.  Taking his eyes off the road for a second, he gazes into Lois’ hazel eyes.  “I could force you into ballet tights and make you dance like a ballerina as I filmed you.  My brother, Tess, Chloe, and even your dad if I can get ahold of him will all be attendance.”

The humor flees Lois’ face as her eyes widen to the point of bursting out of her skull.  “You wouldn’t.”

Clark shrugs as his eyes return to the road.  “I would and it would be the highlight of my year.”  He holds up a warning finger as Lois snarls.  “Careful, don’t hit the driver.  You might get us into an accident.  And that would be bad for us both.”

He can _feel_ Lois seething in her seat. 

“Out of all three of those, I think I’ll take lying in the grass while you mow the lawn.”

Clark whines.  “Oh, I would have preferred the ‘Lois, the Pretty Little Ballerina’ scenario.”

“ _OH SHUT UP, CLARK QUEEN_!” Lois shrieks.

They spend the next several minutes driving in utter silence.  Lois didn’t even turn on the radio to fill the car with those silly hair metal bands she loves so much.  The only reason he didn’t agree to the Whitesnake concert is, while he doesn’t enjoy the music and would have gone with her anyway, he didn’t like how she got the tickets.  She won them in a dirty poker game. 

At first he was impressed, but she made the mistake of letting it slip that she cheated.  She must have really wanted those stupid tickets.  Lois doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would reveal that sort of thing, but she is impulsive. 

He refused to go with her.  For once, he was saddened by the cold shoulder she gave him the next few days after that.

Technically, this particular date could be considered an olive branch in his opinion.  He had been wanting to do this for some time, but what was originally supposed to just be a personal day, he decided to turn into a date. 

The fact that it’s so important to him is part of the reason that he hasn’t told Lois where they are going. 

The only people who did are Oliver, Tess, and Chloe.  Chloe had been there before.  Clark invited Oliver, but he said he wasn’t ready.  Clark completely understood.  The tabloids have labeled Oliver Queen as shut-in, but he isn’t comfortable being with people he doesn’t know very well at the moment.  He said that the event seemed exciting, but the unavoidable media coverage would have bothered him immensely. 

So, Clark decided to take Lois.  She tried to make him grovel.  He told her that he wasn’t going to grovel.  He said that they could stand around staring each other down like a bunch of idiots, or Lois could just get her butt in the car. 

Lois chose the latter.

Lois Lane makes Clark Queen snippy and it annoys him.

Lois continues the silent treatment all the way into downtown.  He doesn’t see how, but Clark’s burgundy Cadillac roadster is instantly recognizable.  It’s not long after they are driving through the city that Clark starts to see camera flashes directed towards his car. 

“Did we come here so you could be the center of attention?” asks Lois.

Clark frowns at her briefly.  By now, she should know better than that. 

“Yeah, stupid question,” Lois apologizes, glancing into her lap. 

After a few minutes, Clark says, “Suffice to say, where we are going, I _will_ be the center of attention.”

“Oh, my god, are you taking me to a fashion show where you are one of the showmen?” mutters Lois.

Clark grimaces.  “Vivid imagination, but no.”

He finds a parking garage closest to their destination.  After spending almost ten minutes just looking for a place to park, Clark turns off the car and gives Lois a minute to step out and stretch her legs.  Once or twice he saw her massaging her legs during the trip and he wondered if maybe they had fallen asleep. 

When she’s done stretching, Clark gets out and meets her at the back of his car.  He offers her his arm. 

She glances from his eyes to his arm. 

“It’s not _that_ poisonous,” he deadpans.

Lois rolls her eyes and links her arm with his.  Together, the two of them start walking.  It’s February and is still a bit chilly.  Clark is only wearing a silk scarf and a thick black pea coat, but Lois has a warm beret, a cream coat, wool gloves, and a thick scarf protecting her from the cold. The cold doesn’t affect Clark, but he does his best to make himself look like he’s dressed for cold weather.

One thing Clark likes about this neighborhood is that no one hassles him.  Being a Queen has given Clark a bit of a “famous for nothing” status, but he would like to make a name for himself.  In this neighborhood, he can talk to people he knows, go places he wants, all without paparazzi giving him a hard time.  They have enough sense to leave him and his brother alone when at their home in Smallville, but they go to town and it becomes open season. 

As they walk, Clark decides that now he can start revealing where they are going.  “So Lois, how do you feel about kids?”

Lois frowns up at him.  “I don’t know, why?  Don’t tell me you want to take _that_ big a step in our relationship.”

Assuming she’s trying to get him flustered, Clark rolls his eyes.  “No, I don’t.”  He’s not even at the point where he can decide this will be a lasting relationship or not.  He sighs heavily.  “I’m taking you to a charity event.”

Lois breaks away from him and steps in front of him, cutting off his path.  “A _charity event_?” she squeals.  “Why didn’t you tell me?  I’m way too underdressed for a charity event.  Did you bring me out here to humiliate…?”

“ _Lois_!” Clark cuts her off sharply.  “There’s a difference between a charity event and charity ball.  Now if you will just look behind you, our destination is two buildings down.”

Lois turns and follows his direction.  “That warehouse?”

“Yes,” replies Clark.  “Now, if you will just calm down and let me take you there, you’ll see what’s going on.”

His date breathes hard, but she complies.  Wasting no more time, Clark leads her quickly towards the warehouse.  Looking up at the building, Clark feels pleased with himself.  The activity going on within couldn’t wait until a warmer month, so he looked for the nicest warehouse to rent out.  He then took a weekend off to clean the place up himself.  What normal people could get done in a week’s time, he got done in six hours.  After that, it _did_ take a week to set up for the event. 

“So what’s going on inside?” asks Lois.

“You’ll see,” Clark replies as they head up the stairs toward the double doors.  Upon reaching them, Clark steps forward and opens the door.  “After you, ma’am.”

“I’m not a ‘ma’am’,” Lois argues as she steps through the doors.”

“Funny, you sure don’t look like ‘ _sir_ ’,” he counters as he follows in after her.  “Unless, are you a ‘sir’?”

Lois rounds on him with a scowl.  “Don’t push it, buddy.”

He replies with a wink.  Not long after they step through the doors are the greeted by a middle-aged woman.

“Mr. Queen, we’re so glad you could make it!” she exclaims happily.  “The kids have been dying to see you!”

Clark steps forward and smiles down at the small African American woman with her graying hair tied back.  “The pleasure is all mine, Mrs. Grant.  Speaking of the kids, where are they?”

In answer, a set of doors burst open and a bunch of children pour out. 

“It’s Uncle Clark!” exclaims one of them.  Clark knows this one.  Eileen is her name, eleven years old, chocolaty skin and hair that she always keeps in a loose upward bun.

There are several more children here that he can name, but with all of them coming at him, it will take a minute to pinpoint each of them. 

He grins as Lois backs away a little from the children who are now surrounding Clark.  He laughs as they all try to hug him. 

“Hey, Clark needs to breathe here,” he reminds them. 

“No he doesn’t,” counters a boy named Mikey.

“We’ve missed you!”

“Where’ve you been?”

“Why did it take you so long to come see us?”

Clark listens to all of them and tries to answer as best he can.  Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Lois giggling from beneath her hand.  It’s oddly adorable sight. 

“Hey, who’s the lady?” asks Eileen.  Suddenly all eyes turn on Lois and her giggles cease abruptly.  She gulps. 

“Kids, this young woman, Lois,” Clark introduces.  “She’s my date.”

“Eeewww!” the kids exclaim as one. 

“What happened to Chloe?” one asks. 

“Yeah, we like Chloe, where is she?”

Clark exchanges an awkward glance with Lois.  Kids can be brutally honest.  He steps forward a little to stand beside her.  “Chloe still likes all of you, but she couldn’t make it today.  Don’t worry, we are still friends.  Today, I just wanted to introduce all of you to my new friend, Lois Lane.”

Eileen curls her lip.  “Lois and Clark,” she muses.  “Now that sounds silly!” 

To punctuate Clark’s growing embarrassment, she leads all the kids into a fit of laughter.  She didn’t use the word, but even a group of kids can see a pun when they hear it.  Hopefully, Clark can have more out of his relationship with Lois than a pun for everyone to joke about.

At least Lois is finding it funny.

“Okay, kids, wasn’t there a war that we wanted to get started?” Clark asks over all the laughter.  “If you lead us to the battlegrounds, we can pick our teams.”  At his invite, the kids’ laughter turns into whoops of excitement. 

Mrs. Grant gathers them up and leads them back through the doors.  Clark lingers for a minute. 

“War, battlegrounds?” asks Lois, coming to stand beside him.     

“How do you feel about a paintball war?” asks Clark. 

A broad grin spreads across Lois lips.  “Now _that_ sounds exciting.  But, I have to ask, what’s the story with all these kids?”

Clark looks away solemnly.  “They are all in the foster care system.  I don’t know if you’ve heard of it, but they are all a part of a foundation that my mother named after me.  These kids have been through a lot already.  That girl, Eileen, her parents were killed in a tornado when she was three.  Before she came here a year ago, she had been bouncing from foster home to foster home.  At least through the people employed into this foundation, she’s able to have more interaction until she finds someone who will take her in.  Hell, I would adopt a number of these kids if I was old enough.  If there weren’t thing I have to do after high school.”

“What do you have to do after high school?” asks Lois curiously.

Clark turns back to her.  “Let’s save that for another conversation.  Let’s just have fun.”

He steps forward and leads her through the doors.  This portion of the warehouse, for which he wasn’t a part of the decorating team, actually takes his breath away.  Closed off in a glass wall similar to a hockey rink, raised platforms, stacks of tires, carefully put together wooden jungle gyms with red spires on one side and blue spires on the other litter the place in organized chaos.  The...castles each have four spires and the middle left ones are the highest while the far right ones are the lowest.  They both have uncovered slides, meaning whoever goes down them will be exposed.

Clark things that it might have been more fun if each side had big slingshots everyone could use.  He probably wouldn’t have been able to use them.  

Next to the rink, tables with goggles and white jumpsuits are quickly being emptied by the kids.  Another table is set for everyone to put their coats. 

Lois is already heading over there and taking off her coat.  Clark doesn’t know what sort of date she was expecting, but as she sheds her coat, his eyes fall upon a tight-fitting sweating and dark blue jeans.  At least she went into this thinking it would be casual.  However, looking at her boots, she’s going to have to wear bags over them. 

Luckily, there are bags for people to put over their shoes if they wish.  As Clark heads over to shed his own coat, he turns towards the kids who are each given a bag of tennis ball sized paintballs as they head onto the rink.

“Please wait for us before you all start!” he pleads.

The kids collectively grumble, but they comply.  Quickly, Clark finds himself a jumpsuit that will fit him and Lois does the same.  She also ties her hair back so that she can tuck it into her jumpsuit.  Once they are ready, they head into the rink.  Without even being asked, the kids gather around them. 

Clark explains to them that, to make things as fair as possible, he lists them off as one, two.  Thankfully there is an even number of kids and when he finishes counting them off, he steps back. 

“Okay, ones with me, twos with Lois,” he announces.  He turns to his team.  “Follow me, troops.”  All of them put on some sort of game face and follow him to the blue jungle gym.  Once they are safely behind a wall, Clark addresses them.

“Alright, everyone, over on the red side are the warriors of the Evil Witch Lois.  We must defeat them.”  He stoops down and peeks through a narrow slit.  Focusing his hearing and x-ray vision, he sees Lois talking down the kids like some drill sergeant.  Seeing how some of them are whimpering a little, he thinks that she really needs to work on her bedside manner.  Savagely, he hopes that they will turn on her. 

“Who are we?” asks Clark.

“Team Queen!” shouts his team as one.

“I said ‘who are we’?” Clark encourages.

“TEAM QUEEN!” the kids repeat louder. 

“Well then, Team Queen, let’s go show these evil warriors what we are made of,” he invites as he lowers his goggles.  He knows all these kids like each other and he’s made sure of that.  Win or lose, these kids will have fun.

As his team disperses, he observes them for a minute.  Judging by their careful movements, he assumes that they took some time to learn the place and develop tactics.  He observes a minute too long as he almost gets his by a paintball.  He narrowly dodges it. 

Turning towards the direction of the thrower, his eyes land on Lois. 

“The witch tried to kill our leader!” shouts Eileen.  “Get her!”

Clark watches in horror and amusement as five of his teammates charge at Lois with paintballs.  All of her features spell out _Uh-oh_ and she gets his by at least three of the five paintballs before she dives behind a wall of tires.  In turn, a few of her teammates charge at Clark’s teammates from a bridge on their jungle gym.

It’s not long before Lois gets the message.  Getting hit by a paintball doesn’t get you out, even if it’s part of the fun to try and avoid it. 

“Get him!”

Clark’s eyes widen as he sees a few of the kids coming at him with paintballs in their hands.  As he runs for cover, he fishes a paintball out of his bag.  He tosses it behind him without looking. 

“Oops, you missed!” one taunts.

“Ahh!” another exclaims. 

“That’s our team captain!” that one shouts. 

Clark doesn’t know how much time actually passes as the place becomes a mess of shouting, war cries, and laughter.  Lois obviously hasn’t gone paintballing like this before and it’s not long before she’s covered in paint.  A few of the paintballs even came from her teammates.

Clark gets hit a few times as well, but he’s had more experience playing with these kids, or really just kids in general. 

A few times he and Lois come face to face.  It feels to Clark like an old western showdown as they stare at each other for what feels like several minutes before they simultaneously reach for a paintball.

This time is different.  Everyone is just about out of paintballs and it falls dead quiet as the two leaders stare each other down. 

“It doesn’t have to end like this,” Clark reminds her. 

“There’s no other way,” Lois sneers, having adopted a witchy persona.  It’s quite appropriate considering what happened on Chloe’s birthday.

“Then I’m afraid you’ll have to die, witch.”

They reach for their last paintball at the same time, but even without superspeed, Clark is faster.  He fishes it out and throws it at her.  The purple balloon lands square in Lois’ chest. 

She grimaces as she looks down at her chest.  When her eyes return to Clark she grumbles.  “Screw you, Queen.”  She throws her last balloon at him almost lazily.  Clark lets himself get hit by it.  He barely has time to register what happens next as Lois closes the distance between them and surprises him with a kiss. 

“EEWWW!” the kids exclaim together. 

“Clark has betrayed us!” screams Eileen.  “He must die!”

Clark and Lois break away from each other and gaze fearfully at the kids who have now ganged up on him.  He clears his throat.  “Well then, may I have one last request?”

Eileen rolls her eyes.  “Fine.”

“If you all give us your best shot, next trip will be to the Metropolis Zoo,” he promises.  Almost automatically, the kids throw their last paintballs at him and Lois.  Lois actually laughs as she ineffectively shields herself. 

When they are all down, Clark smiles at them.  “Great job everyone; now go get cleaned up.”

Collectively, the kids begin filing out of the rink. 

“Those kids really adore you,” Lois muses.  “I bet you’ll be a great dad someday.”  Without another word, she follows after the kids.  Clark stays behind for a minute or two, just watching her.

Her hair has fallen out of her jumpsuit and it swings dramatically as she walks away.  Her hair does that and she’s not even adding a swing of her hips to her gait. 

A strange thought crosses Clark’s mind.  He wants to tell Lois his secret.  But how?  And how will she react?  Will she accept that it’s just a part of him and continue to see the person that he is?  Will she end up being xenophobic? 

He will give it some more time.  So far, he’s enjoying their relationship.


	38. Chapter Thirty-Seven

_March 20 th, 2002_

_Months ago, Laura and I have started counting the weeks where nothing weird happens. It’s a very small list._

_This week wasn’t one of those weeks.  Clark came across a strange flower that released a toxic fume that causes its victims to become very aggressive…at least until they die from the poison.  Several people got infected.  Jonathan got infected and nearly went into Smallville Savings & Loan with his shotgun.  Lana Lang tried to seduce Clark.  Pete Ross nearly took his hatred for Lex to a murderous level.  Yes, all very weird._

_If we can count at least seven days between weird events, we celebrate.  One of those celebrations became a bad choice at a bad time when Clark walked in on his mother on my lap._

_Why didn’t wait until we got to our bedroom?_

_Clark had something similar to say.  He also said that he was just going to go back out and look for something to do at the Kent farm.  Then he would go and let his friends drag him out to movie at the dollar theater.  That or Lex might just corner him into doing something that he will pretend to enjoy simply because he’s too polite._

_Clark likes Lex, but Lex can force himself on him a little.  Lex is all for grand gestures.  Sometimes, Lex can be little too harsh when things don’t go his way, or when something he doesn’t understand happens.  A few weeks ago, Clark lost some of his powers to a classmate of his when both of them got struck by lightning.  Hell I could explain the science behind that.  Virgil tried to offer me his own theory, but he knows that as close as we are that things like that bores me._

_Anyway, while Clark was affected he became susceptible to injury and it took him longer to perform chores for the Kents.  Lex came by and seemed disappointed.  It came time for a chat with Lex._

_I had been investigating him for some time, if only because the circumstances of his relationship with my son bother me.  What I found angered me.  I waited for the opportune moment to tell him of my discovery.  Through a mole of mine that I planted under Lex’s employ, I found out that not only does Lex still have the wreckage of the Porsche he ran over Clark with; he has an entire facility dedicated to investigating what exactly happened._

_So, one afternoon, I snuck into the facility and just waited.  It was completely unrelated to the situation, but as I waited, I was reading_ Frankenstein. _Mary Shelley takes a long time to get her point across, but she does tell an excellent story of the consequences of playing God.  Only God can create life.  Maybe it wasn’t completely unrelated, given Lex’s developing megalomania._

_When Lex finally arrived, he couldn’t have been more surprised if the President of the United States walked up to his door and offered him the job without the people voting._

_I launched into a monologue about Clark has never had many friends.  Until he died, Oliver was Clark’s best friend.  After that, he has been putting great value into his friendships especially with Chloe Sullivan and Pete Ross.  Then Lex comes along and Clark seems to have come to view him as a surrogate older brother._

_How would Clark feel if he knew Lex was investigating him behind his back?  How would he feel if he thought Lex was doing this?_

_Lex cleverly countered me.  He asked me how Clark would feel if he knew I was investigating Lex.  Admittedly, I admired Lex’s comeback._

_But that wasn’t the point._

_I cut to the chase.  I might have sounded more imploring than I meant to, but Clark is my son.  I told Lex to quit investigating Clark.  He ought to just be grateful that Clark saved his life.  Lex has secrets and Clark respects that.  As such, Lex ought to respect Clark’s secrets until Clark feels comfortable sharing them._

_Then I got to the ultimatum._

_I told Lex that if he couldn’t do all that, if he couldn’t cease this investigation and turn that wreck into a cube of garbage, I would tell Clark about everything I saw.  Lex assured that I had nothing on him.  I documented the whole place and showed him the file.  If he simply stopped the investigation and simply stuck to being a friend to Clark, I would burn it._

_If he couldn’t, not only would I show Clark everything I discovered, I would impose a restraining order against Lex.  I was angry enough that I told him I might not stop there._

_Lex obviously didn’t like being threatened, but I have more experience than him, so he knew better than to cross me.  He agreed.  He also agreed to allow me to oversee him terminating the project._

_It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship, without the cinematically dramatic appeal._

 

Chloe sips her coffee absentmindedly as she goes over next week’s spread for the Torch.  For once, there’s no meteor freak story to publish in the school’s paper.  As much as it makes for a good read for some people, she’s grown tired of writing stories about them.  Her Wall of Weird continues to accumulate, but she tries to be more…humane about it. 

It’s something that Lois has yet to learn.  Chloe wonders in what ways, if any, her cousin will temper her need to hunt down a story if she knew Clark’s secret.  It’s not hers to tell.  Still, Chloe wonders how much backlash she might get from Lois if and when Clark does tell her his secret. 

What she does know, is that Clark won’t want to move to a more intimate level in his relationship with Lois until she does know his secret. 

Chloe just isn’t sure if her cousin is up for carrying that kind of burden yet. 

At least Lois is being less closed off around Clark.  Clark, in turn, has been as open as he can without revealing too much.  Chloe does look forward to Clark telling her about his most recent date with Lois.  Until then, Chloe is strategically occupying herself with other things.

One of the things that she has been asked to cover for the school newspaper is the prom in a few months.  She is excited for prom, but not the prom royalty that comes with it.  In fact, she, Clark, and Lois have spent plenty of time laughing about how overrated it is. 

Spring Formal was one thing when Chloe had the opportunity to dance with Clark.  The evening ended poorly, but Clark did make up for it.  Not only that, but he told her his secret on top of that.  Initially, she was shocked by his demonstration that included speeding to the Talon to get her a cup of coffee and then placing his hands on her hips and floating upward together. 

Despite the initial shock, it took her about five minutes for her brain to put all the pieces together.  Suddenly, everything about him made sense.  The saves, the showing up places at alarming speed, the flash of red that she had sworn she had seen many times in the sky, and the lame excuses.  She always knew there was something special about him and felt touched that he revealed his secret to her. 

As for prom, they had a plan originally.  They promised each other that they would go to the stupid event and together or not, they would save each other at least one dance.  She hopes that that promise still rings true.

At this point, Chloe just needs to announce that tickets will be going on sale soon and that she must say something to get people excited.  She can say how prom is a rite of passage celebrating four years of memories, but she thinks she will wait before she shares how she feels about the election of prom royalty.  Weirdly enough, this year they are leaving out the prom king. 

Another thing that some of her classmates have been pressuring her to write about is the status of Clark Queen’s dating life.  Some people seem to have never gotten the message that she doesn’t take requests unless it’s from the principal, but she is definitely not heeding that request.

If people want to know more about Clark’s dating life, they can ask him about it.  Knowing Clark, he might do his best to politely steer people away from that question.  Lois would outright tell them that it’s none of their business and if they have a problem with that they can kiss her ass.  Chloe does have to admire her for that.

Still, Chloe types up her spread for Monday’s article and then takes a few minutes to proofread it.  She might go over it with Clark later, but she can still do her own tweaks.  She doesn’t have an issue with spelling, not quite like Lois, whose spelling skills make her look illiterate, but she still finds a few typos here and there. 

When she’s done, she saves the file and turns off her laptop.  Satisfied, she sits back and exhales.  She takes a moment to look at the Talon.  Mr. Morningstar sure has redecorated the place.  The way she would describe the finishing result is that the dark, mysterious man had trouble deciding between making the place look like a bar, a nightclub, or a coffeehouse.  It’s as if he took all those ideas and put them in to a blender and made a smoothie out of them.

It has the same fancy cappuccino machine as always.  Same bar loaded with decorative coffeecakes and muffins.  What’s different is that there is a pool table and even a dartboard.  There’s the Steinway piano that is mostly left unused unless Mr. Morningstar is in the mood for entertaining the customers, or that day that Clark played.  The raised platform in the back of the place that is sometimes used for karaoke nights is empty at the moment save for the jukebox in the corner. 

At least Mr. Morningstar didn’t change anything with the apartment above the Talon which Lana uses.  Well, nothing besides replacing the plumbing system which clogged easily, according to Lana.

Lucifer Morningstar is a strange man indeed.  Chloe has noticed his habit of asking people what they desire and them pouring out their desires to him.  A gut feeling says that it has nothing to do with meteor infection or being a metahuman.  No, there’s something more…divine about him that she can’t put her finger on.  He’s unearthly handsome, that’s for sure.  A similar quality shared with Clark Queen and Diana Prince. 

Once she got the opportunity to interview him, he kept calling her “Miss Sullivan” despite her insistence that he call her “Chloe.”  His wife’s name was Chloe, she found out, and it helped him draw the distinction by not using that name.  She could tell he was still very sad about it. 

He used to be a successful nightclub owner as well as a police consultant.  He became a consultant through his connections to the underground as well as his seemingly mystical skills of persuasion.  He met his wife following the murder of an acquaintance whom he did a favor for once.  At first, she couldn’t stand him. 

Silently, Chloe wondered if he was the kind of guy who was used to getting women to sleep with him.  Maybe his Chloe Decker didn’t want to sleep with him and it both vexed and intrigued him.

What he did tell her is that he initially didn’t like Trixie.  What’s not to like about her?  Sure, she comes off as closed off at times, but when she does open up, she has a cute sense of humor.

Lucifer Morningstar, for the longest time, didn’t even like children.

“Coffee refill?”

Chloe nearly falls out of her chair as she’s pulled out of her thoughts to see none other than Trixie Morningstar staring down at her with a pitcher of coffee.  As usual, her dark hair is pulled into a French braid around her shoulder with black crystal earrings dangling from her ears. 

“Sorry,” she apologizes sheepishly.  “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, it’s okay,” Chloe insists.  “Yes, I’d love a refill.”

“Are you okay?” asks Trixie as she refills Chloe’s mug. 

“I’ve been better.”

Trixie smiles softly.  “Listen, I hope I’m not intruding, but I have a break coming up, so I was wondering if I could join you.”

Chloe gapes at the unexpected request.  Eventually she smiles.  “No one else is sitting across from me.  Take a seat.”

Trixie’s smile brightens a bit.  “Great, just let me get rid of this pitcher.”  Chloe watches as the slender young woman walks behind the counter and sets the picture down on the heat pad.  She speaks to a coworker and then returns.  As sheepishly as she approached earlier, she pulls the chair out and sits across from Chloe.

The two of them sit in silence for several minutes.  Eventually, they break the silence at once.

“This is awkward, I…” they cut off at the same time. 

“If I’m making you uncomfortable, I can get up,” Trixie offers. 

Chloe’s eyes widen.  “Oh, no, please don’t get up, it’s just…”

Trixie smiles understandingly.  “You’re used to sharing coffee with your cousin or your ex-boyfriend and right now they are on a date.”

 _That and Pete and Lana can’t even seem to get away from each other,_ Chloe adds mentally.  “Yeah, but I do enjoy you interrupting my solitude.”

Trixie smirks.  “I think being in a coffeehouse, you lose the right to use the word ‘solitude’.”

Chloe inclines her head as a smile spreads across her lips.  “I do, don’t I?”

“So why do you sulk alone?”

Chloe hides her face behind a sip of coffee.  “I’m not sulking.”

Trixie crosses her arms.  “My mother was a detective, so some of her detective skills rubbed off on me.  One of which is being able to tell when people are lying to me.  Your cousin and your best friend/ex-boyfriend are two steps from being boyfriend and girlfriend, so you have plenty of reason to sulk.”

Chloe laughs mirthlessly.  “Suddenly I hate living in a small town.”

“The word is in the name.”

“Have you ever been in a complicated situation like this?”

Trixie smiles reminiscently.  “Not me personally, but when my dad started seeing this attorney, my mom was a little weird about it for a while.  She wasn’t related to the attorney, but the two of them had some complicated history.  I’m sure that’s nothing compared to your cousin being attracted to your ex, but I hope it helps.”

Chloe raises her mug appreciatively.  “I’m not sure yet, but I think it’s starting to.”

“I hope they treat each other right,” offers Trixie.

That elicits a laugh from Chloe.  “Clark’s not the one I’m worried about; it’s my cousin who doesn’t have a good track record with boyfriends.”

Trixie shrugs.  “You never know.  Maybe Miss Lois who-doesn’t-have-a-good-track-record-with-boyfriends Lane might have just found the guy who will make her see the errors of her frolicking ways.”

Chloe blinks several times.  Then she cracks up into a fit of laughter. 

“What’s so funny?” ask Trixie, smiling herself. 

Chloe shakes her head.  “It’s just that you said exactly what I needed to hear.  You said what I’ve been trying to tell myself for weeks.”

Trixie sits back in her chair smugly.  “I’m glad I could help.  I’ve been giving relationship advice since I was eight.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes.  Here Chloe was just working on the school paper outside the confines of the Torch office, not expecting company.  Then Trixie Morningstar, the girl that surprised her with a kiss back in December, comes over and offers her company.  Not only that, but she’s made herself the first person after Clark to say something uplifting about the whole predicament that is her, Lois, and Clark. 

“Say, Chloe, I was wondering, there’s this theater in Metropolis,” begins Trixie.  “I’ve never been to it, but I’ve heard good things about it, and I was wondering if you’d like to come with me.”

Chloe raises an eyebrow.  “Are you asking me out?”

“If you aren’t comfortable or if you aren’t into…”

“Hey, I’m not like that; I’d love to go out with you.”  Chloe tears her eyes away from Trixie and land on the dartboard.  “Say, why don’t you play me for it?”

Trixie smiles dangerously.  “I’ll get the darts.”  She gets up and walks away before disappearing into the backroom.

Chloe isn’t sure why she suggested the dart game.  She does feel that in this day and age, people should be more open to same-sex relationships.  When Clark found about her bisexual tendencies prior to them dating, he was completely accepting.  After they started dating, they sometimes joked as to whether Clark would find himself competing with the next gorgeous girl who came along.  No, Chloe was too monogamous.  He did say that if and when she came out, he would be completely supportive. 

As for the dart game, it’s something Chloe can win easily thanks to Clark’s lessons in darts and throwing knives. 

Chloe’s mind returns from her thoughts as Trixie returns from the backroom.  A wad of fourteen darts, seven of them blue, and the rest red, are in her hand. 

“Normally, Lucifer saves these for special occasions because a lot of teenagers misuse them, but I trust you,” says Trixie as she hands Chloe the blue darts.

“So who goes first?”

“You can go first.”

Chloe smiles as she stands up and walks over to the dartboard.  She studies the board for a minute or two.  Without thinking, as thinking too much ruins her aim, she starts throwing the darts in smooth succession.  Each dart lands in the bull’s-eye.  When she finishes, she steps back and turns to Trixie.

Trixie grumbles.  “You’re good.”

“My ex-boyfriend rubbed off on me.”

“Okay, my turn.”

Chloe steps aside with a dramatic bow. 

Similarly, Trixie starts throwing her darts in quick succession.  When she finishes, Chloe studies the grouping of the darts.  To get a better look, she stands in front of the dartboard.  What she sees not only astounds her, but amuses her.

The darts are grouped together in a frown face.

“That’s what my face will look like if you don’t go out with me,” Trixie explains. 

“What, covered in darts?” asks Chloe before she can stop herself.

“Anybody tell you how adorable your snarky attitude is?”

Chloe blushes.  Her truthful answer is yes.  Clark reminded her of that daily if he could help it.  “I do enjoy the frequent reminders,” she answers cleverly.

“Then be prepared to grow tired of it.”

She might even help Chloe overlook Clark’s new relationship.  “So what are we seeing?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about the lamenting, but I hope everyone sees this as Chloe attempting to move on. By now, both Clark and Chloe have found ways to move on. Also, no promises, but Lois might just find out about Clark's secret some time in the next few chapters. And eventually, I'll revisit Lana and Diana.


	39. Chapter Thirty-Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this is the only update this weekend. I'm battling writer's block. Not necessarily in the form of what to do next, as I have a few drafts written down, but rather figuring out how to put it all together. Not to mention a desire to update other stories that I might not have had a chance to type up or post yet. Still, if updates continue to slow down, I apologize. I hope you all continue to enjoy it just the same.

_April 25 th, 2002_

_Jonathan and Martha recently had their first taste of what could be considered real parenthood.  It’s really a bit of strange story.  Martha was out driving late and a boy ran out in the middle of the road.  She hit him.  I can’t even begin to imagine how Martha would have felt if she had hit him any harder than she did.  The boy, whose name turned out to be Ryan, had some bruises._

_Oddly, if not sadly, he had other bruises that didn’t look like they had anything to do with the accident.  Not knowing what else to do, as he claimed to not know who his parents even were, Jonathan and Martha took him in.  By sheer coincidence, that same evening was when my family was planning on having dinner with the Kents._

_Laura and I felt it necessary to reschedule so as not to overwhelm Ryan, but Ryan insisted on our company.  I do believe that Clark had something to do with it.  After a strange dinner where the boy Ryan kept giving us strange looks and even stranger looks directed at Clark, Clark showed the boy around._

_Privately, Laura and I spoke with Jonathan and Martha.  Based on Martha’s observations, she didn’t know if he was lying or not about not knowing who his parents were, but his bruises suggested that he might have been better off without them.  Martha asked if there was anything Laura and I could do.  I could talk to the right people, but if I have a good enough case to make to Child Services.  Also, Clark seemed to adore this comic book-loving boy._

_Actually, I don’t think he meant to, but he seemed to see Ryan as a brother.  In some ways, Ryan might have been a surrogate, filling that void left when Clark lost his beloved brother.  As I said, I don’t believe he meant to, but that’s how it seemed.  Clark is an unfailing friend, even when they don’t seem to have earned it (such as Lex Luthor, I have no shame in voicing privately).  Ryan was one of those few that needed a friend and Clark did that for him._

_After a series of showing uncanny intuition, from knowing how Martha and Jonathan liked their pancakes (he made them breakfast) to finishing Chloe’s story about lost children, and even voicing my uncouth opinion of a businesswoman who came for a visit.  The woman was in the room and was not as embarrassed as I should have been.  After all, she’s been using my wife’s meetings with other women as an excuse to try and get into my pants._

_Forbes has listed me as “Sexiest Billionaire over 40 of the Month.”  Not that I ever competed.  Also, the only woman I’ll ever sleep with is the one I offer a four-karat Harry Winston diamond ring to twenty-five years ago._

_Anyway, back to Ryan.  It later turned out that his stepparents were con artists.  Ryan is a meteor freak who can read people’s minds.  There was a nasty confrontation, ending in his stepmother killed and stepfather arrested.  I contacted Child Services and they were able to track down his aunt._

_As much as I was happy to see the mind-reading boy find a family, I also felt awful.  Once again, Clark has been left without a brother figure.  Ironically, it seems, Lex has been trying to do just that with Clark.  Two things though:  as much as Clark welcomes Lex’s friendship, he will never see him as a brother and Lex has been going about this friendship all wrong.  He does nice things, makes grand gestures, and it’s all littered with ulterior motives._

_In fact, before he left, Ryan told me something very unnerving.  When he had the opportunity to meet Lex (who gave him copies of the rarest issues of_ Warrior Angel _) he got a glimpse of his thoughts.  He told me Lex has a lot of thoughts running in his mind, but I must be careful.  Ryan didn’t see Clark’s spaceship, but he did see the lead vault it’s kept in._

_While it lasted, I could tell Clark felt great having someone else in his life who not only knew his secret, but wasn’t afraid of him, who didn’t even try and exploit him.  Instead, he showed concern for his friend.  If he says that he should be careful with Lex...who am I to argue with someone who can read people’s thoughts?_

_It would also seem that despite my warning, Lex hasn’t relented on his curiosity about Clark.  Sure, he seems to have trashed all of his research regarding his car accident (which is still an inside joke between Jonathan and I)._

_The car crash investigation was strike one.  Lex has done several things that I find questionable at best, but his investigating Clark angers me.  What angers me about it is the fact that he’s calls himself Clark’s friend and he’s investigating him behind his back.  If he keeps it up, I’ll have to step in.  Clark might hate me for it, but his safety, the safety of his secret, comes first._

_On a more positive note, Clark brought up something quite interesting over dinner.  He said that Ryan told him that Chloe likes him.  Laura and I did our best to feign ignorance, but really we might have both been thinking “We knew; it’s about time_ you _found out.”  He went on to say that Chloe is hoping that he will ask her to their Spring Formal.  She even has a lovely pink dress to wear to it._

 _Well, we asked him what he plans to do.  He said he wanted to ask Chloe out, but is worried.  As assertive as Clark can be, talking to girls and flirting with them, he can still lack confidence when he wants to ask one of them out.  Actually that’s not fair.  He_ has _asked a few girls out.  One of those girls was Lana Lang.  Perhaps the fact that he’s so worried about asking Chloe out…perhaps he just likes her that much._

_Would it really be so mean to just bring the foot down and say, “Just shut up and do it”?_

_I usually save the tough love for when Clark misbehaves, but this might be one of those occasions to break that little guideline._

 

Clark sits at the piano.  His eyes are glued forward, but his fingers move across the ivory keys.  The melody he creates is gentle and it soothes his skin as much as his ears.  He could be playing a very energetic piece; a louder piece; a more complicated piece; an uplifting piece.  No, no such piece came to Clark’s mind when he sat down at the piano.  In few months, his parents will have been dead for two years now.

Clark doesn’t know if Oliver is grieving the way he is.  Perhaps, his older brother doesn’t feel as jaded as Clark does now.  When the anniversary of their parents’ deaths hit him as hard when it does come along?  No, it’s not fair for Clark to think like that. 

In fact, sometimes he wishes he could forget all about his parents, or at least how they died.  The image of them being incinerated in a flash is an image that seems to have been welded into his memory.  No matter how hard he tries, it just reappears again and again. 

So, Clark started turning to the piano.  Oliver is out with Tess at the moment, so he has the house all to himself.  Initially, he thought of inviting Lois over, but then thought that it would be nice to have some alone time for a while.

Lois.  Only a few days ago did Lois officially label him as her “boyfriend.”  Clark is worried that his immediate reaction could have been more romantic.  “Oh,” was his response.  Lois was justifiably taken aback by the seemingly noncommittal grunt. 

Despite his initial shock out the label, he quickly responded with, “I’ll be the one you call ‘boyfriend’ if you’ll be the one I call ‘girlfriend’.”

Instead of firing back with her typical… _Lois-ness_ as he calls it, she smiled and dragged his head down for a long, sensual kiss.  However, _then_ she said, “Don’t get overly romantic with me, rich boy.”

It was start though.  She may still come off as a “man with breasts” as a few of Clark’s peers have labeled her, but sometimes he finds himself getting underneath her thick skin.  In fact, he wonders if she wishes that were literal.  Once or twice, Lois has cornered him with intense kisses and even tried to take things further, but Clark has stopped her each time.

So far, Lois has taken his refusal to consummate their relationship as excessive shyness, but that’s not the case.  Perhaps, it is a little, but more because he doesn’t want to make love to someone without them knowing his secret.  For him, it’s tantamount to a meaningless screw.

He wants to tell Lois his secret.  He wants her to know who and what he is.  How the hell will she react?  The woman hasn’t even known him a year and he is already dating her.  Not only is he dating her, but he’s enjoying it more with every date.

As Clark plays, he almost jumps in fright as he hears the sound of the front door.  Even by just the sound of her footsteps, he knows who it is, so he’s not terribly annoyed about his peaceful setting being compromised.  He returns to the piece he is playing and waits for his visitor. 

Without looking back, he knows just by the sound of her footsteps where she is.  If only because he still enjoys impressing her from time to time, he ends his piece with a small flourish.  Without even realizing it, he holds his breath until the final note fades.

“Have I told you what a beautiful pianist you are?”

Clark smiles as he spins around on the bench.  “Yes, but frequent reminders are always appreciated.”  Friends or lovers, Chloe can always put a smile on his face even without uttering a word.  He hopes that Trixie Morningstar will come to realize that quality about her as well.

It’s still a bit chilly outside, so Chloe has a shearling coat on.  It’s one that he gave to her a couple of years ago.  He and Chloe have given each other so many things over the years, that if they were to discard those things for the sake of their new relationships, it wouldn’t leave them with very much.  Clark doesn’t know about Trixie, but at least Lois doesn’t seem to give him crap for wearing some of the things Chloe gave him, such as his favorite red jacket.

It’s a relatively affordable jacket, but Clark loves wearing it when he just wants to dress casually. 

“How are you, Clark?” asks Chloe.

Clark appreciates the level of concern in her voice.  “I’m…managing.”

“Lois told me you wanted to be left alone, but…”

Clark smirks.  “As if you would actually listen?”

“Lois will pick up on that eventually.”

Clark smiles as he stands up.  “If you’ll follow me into the kitchen, I’ll put on a pot of coffee.”

Chloe’s emerald eyes light up with excitement.  He can’t even smell any trace of coffeehouse on her, which is a bad sign where she is concerned. 

Ten minutes later, the two of them are sitting across from each other in the kitchen as Clark waited for the coffee to warm up. 

“How are things with you and Trixie?” asks Clark. 

Chloe looks at her hands as she tries to hide her blush.  “We actually had a date recently.”

Clark raises his eyebrows.  “Oh, yeah?  How was it?”

Chloe’s blush intensifies and Clark finds himself blushing as well. 

“This is weird, isn’t it?” he asks. 

“A bit,” agrees Chloe.  “We used to date and now we are attempting to talk about each other’s new dates.”

“Do you think things would be less awkward between us if Lois was one I ended up dating?”

Chloe is silent for a minute or two.  In her silence, the coffeemaker dings and she gets up to pour them mugs of coffee.  “Lois fell for you, Clark,” she replies carefully.  “It’s easy to resent her for it, but she could use a great guy like you in her life.  You and I broke up on good terms; as complicated as it makes our relationship, I’m not going to let Lois being in love with you ruin that.  At least no more than I already have.”

“I wasn’t aware that it was being ruined,” Clark states innocently. 

Chloe laughs softly.  “I’m glad _you_ don’t think so.  It would be so easy to completely cut you out of my life to make room for your relationship with Lois, _but that won’t happen_!” she rushes out the last few words upon seeing Clark’s hurt look. 

“I hope you wouldn’t cut me out of your life,” he says as she hands him his coffee.  “Who am I going to go to when I need to get away from my love life and my family—or at least what’s left of it?”

Chloe frowns.  “Please don’t say that.  Not the ‘or at least what’s left of it’ part.  Oliver is your brother, but the Kents care about you; Lois cares about you; I’ll always care about you.”

Clark reaches across the table and cups her hand affectionately.  He hopes that it’s a platonic gesture.  “You’re right; I take it back.”

“Good, I’d hate to have to stage an intervention,” she warns sweetly. 

“We wouldn’t want that,” Clark agrees, feigning fright.  “So how _was_ your date?”

“It was great,” replies Chloe.  “Trixie took me to one of Metropolis’ finest theaters to see _Rent_.  Afterwards, I showed her around the city and we ate at that Mexican restaurant you and I loved so much.  When Trixie dropped me off at home we kissed.”

Clark raises an eyebrow.  “Well there’s a play you and I hadn’t had a chance to see.”

Chloe shrugs.  “It’s okay.  But you do still owe me a musical-date.  Trixie was bummed because where she comes from, there’s a musical called _Hamilton_.  It’s about the founding father Alexander Hamilton.”

“The guy on the ten-dollar bill?” asks Clark. 

“Trixie scolded me for saying exactly that,” laughs Chloe.  “He was the first Secretary of Treasury and was a huge opponent of slavery.  Born a bastard, grew up to become George Washington’s right hand man, favored a larger government over Thomas Jefferson’s idea of agrarianism, and was killed in a duel.  Trixie got interested and I scoured both the Smallville library and Metropolis Metropolitan Library for everything I could find about Alexander Hamilton.”

 _Is she planning on writing a paper about him?_ Clark wonders.  Another question comes up as well.  “Where _do_ Trixie and her family come from?”  

Chloe laughs mirthlessly.  “Well isn’t that the million-dollar question,” she marvels sarcastically.  “When I asked, Trixie answered with the good old ‘It’s complicated’.  All she would tell me is that ‘where she comes from’ she knew a guy who looked very much like you.  He was a police lieutenant who was secretly one of the oldest, if not the oldest immortal in the world and he couldn’t die.”

  “So somewhere, someplace, a guy who looked like me liked saving people too,” Clark marvels.  “Sounds awfully cryptic.”

“Yeah, but I like her too much to go all reporter on her.”

Clark grumbles.  “Lois hasn’t had the same life lessons as you, so sometimes I still have to endure her twenty-plus questions.”

“She will learn,” Chloe offers confidently. 

“I appreciate your optimism, but still sometimes I wonder if it would be easier to not compare the two of you if she had a completely different personality.”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean no reporter streak, no impulsivities—hers are worse than yours, especially when it comes to what comes out of her mouth…”

“And?”

Clark turns up blank. 

“Clark, if that’s all you can think of then that’s silly!” exclaims Chloe.  “Maybe I’m biased because it’s what I plan to be, but I really don’t see you with someone who is not a journalist.  Although, I sure hope you don’t go for a gossip columnist.”

Clark chokes on his sip of coffee.  “Me?  With a gossip columnist?  That’s like putting you with a mortician.” 

It’s Chloe’s turn to grimace.  “Touché.  Still, you see what I mean?  I know that the concept destiny annoys you, but I know you and I can tell you that your kind of woman definitely has reporter in it.”

“Considering that you _are_ a reporter, I’m not sure if I can consider your opinion impartial.”

“Fair enough.”

A moment of silence passes between them.  Clark is starting to realize that it’s been a few weeks since he had a chance to have some real alone time with his best friend.  Every moment is worth savoring.

“Clark, may I ask you a serious question?”

“Ask away,” Clark invites.

“Have you given thought to telling Lois your secret?”

Clark takes a moment or two before he answers.  “I have and I’m afraid of how she will react.”

Chloe nods her understanding.  “She hasn’t known you for as long as I did before you _spontaneously_ revealed your secret to me.”

“Hey, that was a moment of desperation!” Clark reminds her defensively.

“Are you waiting for a similar moment before you reveal your secret to Lois?” asks Chloe smartly.

“I…uh,” Clark begins before he actually thinks of a proper response.  “Well, I don’t know.  There were more times than I can count that I wanted to reveal my secret to you—to everyone—before I finally did.  I used to spend hours just standing in front of the mirror trying to put into words how I would reveal myself to the world.  But the sad reality, you and I both know, is that there is too much xenophobia in the world.”

Chloe reaches across the table and takes her turn grasping his hand.  “There is, but Tess figured out your secret all on her own and is she trying to get you to do stuff for her personal gain?  And if she was a xenophobe, don’t you think that people would have shown up on your doorstep weeks ago?” 

Clark nods his agreement.  “Yeah, and I know that you’ve told me Lois is no xenophobe, but I also know that she has a bad relationship with her dad.  What if she finds out my secret and as a way of repairing her relationship with her father, she tells him and he has me hauled away?”

Chloe is silent for several minutes.  “Clark, listen to me very carefully.  Don’t _ever_ say that again.  Lois isn’t perfect, I’m not perfect, no one’s perfect, but I think Lois has shown how much she cares about you to prove that she wouldn’t sell you out like that.  Now I understand where you are coming from after how your relationship with Lex deteriorated, but Lois isn’t like that.  And unless she has a death wish that only I can fulfill, she wouldn’t be investigating you in such fashion.”

Clark glances downward ruefully.  “You’re right; I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” his best friend reassures him.  “I too wish you didn’t have to hide who you are.  But I’ve also told you that there is a way that you can be who you are without people knowing who you are.”

“Chloe, I’m not going to be a superhero,” he thinks he sounds firm, but he’s smiling too much.

Chloe shrugs.  “You never know; I’ve seen you in tights.  You can just look at it as a very adventurous, if not occasionally violent session of ballet.”

“Oh, enough!” Clark snaps as Chloe giggles.  If he will be honest though, he has pictured himself in such way.  As proficient as he has become archery, fencing, and throwing knives, he still wonders if those things would be too much.  He would want to come off as a hero, but even if he isn’t armed to the teeth, he also doesn’t want to come off as overly fierce.  Still, he has fantasized about him and his brother being a bow-toting duo.  No one, not even Chloe or Oliver, knows about a little—and incredibly lousy—comic strip he drew titled _The Archers Queen_.

When their giggles settle down, Clark figures it’s his turn to be serious. 

“Have you given thought to telling Lois about your…immortality for lack of a better word?” he asks.

Chloe looks away briefly.  “I guess that question was bound to come up.  I don’t know.  I guess I like Lois not knowing I’m a part of the meteor freak community.”

“Not to give your words back to you, but do you really think Lois will stop loving you the way she does if she found out?”

Chloe chuckles softly.  “I guess life really is way too complicated for you and I, isn’t it?  I’ve also wondered if Lois will try to be overly generous and try to get you and I back into a romantic relationship.  Plus, I’d hate for her to feel like a placeholder.”

Clark rolls his eyes.  “Chloe I think it’s your turn to listen to me carefully.  At some point, I’ll have this same conversation with Lois, but I want you to quit comparing yourself to her.  Now, just listen,” he adds as Chloe begins to protest.  “I’ll probably never be able to decide which one of you is a better girlfriend, or even a better woman to have in my life in general.  You two bring plenty of good and bad into my life.  You being my girlfriend is probably the best thing that’s happened to me so far.  I hope the same will come about dating Lois.  In fact, having you _and_ Lois in my life has been just…great.  Now I can’t imagine what my life would be like without having the both of you in it, or even just one of you. 

“Lois is the one that I’ve chosen to date, but you still occupy the same place in my heart.  If anything, the fact that we broke up and still call each other best friends just makes that an even deeper, more unbreakable part of my heart.  Not so say that my relationship with Lois pales in comparison.  I don’t _want_ there to be a comparison.  I want to be able to develop something special with Lois that is similar, but something that can exist in its own right without borrowing off of what you and I had—still have.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be in this world.  I don’t know how long I’ll get to have with Lois, depending on how long we stay together.  But I can tell you that she is _not a placeholder_.  If you keep obsessing about it, or if I keep making grand gestures to prove that, we’ll both go insane.  Not to say there won’t be grand gestures, but I’d rather do them for the right reasons, otherwise I think I’ll forfeit the right to call it ‘unconditional love’.”

Clark finishes his little speech and Chloe just sits silently for several minutes.  Eventually, a slow smile spreads across her lips.  “Wow,” she breathes.  “I guess a part of that should leave me feeling insulted, or like the lesser woman, but I don’t.  If anything, I think it just further shows what a great person you are.”

Clark shrugs smugly.  “I try to be.”

Chloe laughs and he laughs with her.  “So, since we have the afternoon all to ourselves, you want to catch a movie?”

“Popcorn and soda are on me,” Clark volunteers.

“Let’s get going.”

“Oh and Chloe…”

“Yes, Clark?”

He takes a deep breath.  “How was your kiss with Trixie?”

Chloe smiles softly.  “Different, but it was great.”

Clark smiles back.  Perhaps he needs to take his own advice about the comparison issue.  “I’m glad.  So what movie are we seeing?”


	40. Chapter Thirty-Nine

_May 2 nd, 2002_

_I am officially terrified of bees.  It’s really unfortunate, because my family always gets our honey from a local beekeeper in town.  Considering the usual quality of their honey, I feel that the prices they ask for are too reasonable.  Also Laura is insanely allergic to bees.  At least she isn’t allergic to honey.  Still, due to the fact, she never comes along when we go to the bee farm._

_Now, as for my newfound fear of bees, it’s a bit of strange story.  Should I really call it strange?  What most people might consider “strange” has generally become “normal” where Smallville is concerned._

_So, Smallville High was having its class president elections.  Most of these teenagers are quite naïve when it comes to politics, but I do admire the effort that is placed into elections such as class president.  It gives children a chance to really think about what they want for their school as student representatives.  It also gives them a taste of democracy, having the blessing of being able to vote._

_Wait until they are actually adults.  Then they will see just how cutthroat, competitive, annoying, and sometimes violent that voting can be.  I was raised in a staunchly Republican home that thought all Democrats are scum.  My wife is a democrat.  As for me, the narrow-mindedness of my parents and the people in their social circles irritated me.  I don’t care what political parties candidates are representing.  All that matters to me are what they plan to do once in office._

_High school class president elections are thankfully far less complicated.  At least I think so.  There were a few candidates.  A boy named, Paul Chan, and two young ladies by the names of Felice Chandler and Sasha Woodman.  Out of the three of them, based on what Clark has told me, Paul was the most eligible.  Felice Chandler, I don’t know, but Clark says that is she was elected it would probably of been because of her overall popularity and throwing a pre-election bash._

_Clark held a party at the house once.  The house was mess.  He cleaned it all up in ten seconds flat, but his mother and I were already home.  We grounded him for a week with no visits from his friends._

_Now the final candidate, Sasha Woodman, she’s an interesting fellow.  Easily the most competitive and high-strung of the candidates, Sasha took things too far.  When she thought Clark was running for president, which he turned down, she berated him in front of everyone.  In Clark’s own words, he will run for class president when Chloe becomes head cheerleader._

_Chloe has turned into a beautiful young woman and Clark knows it, but she despises cheerleaders.  She once wrote a very entertaining article describing in vivid detail about how cheerleading is a “waste of energy that serves no other purpose than exploitation and giving athletes something pretty to look at.”  Laura was a cheerleader in high school, yet she too found the article fun to read._

_So the ways Sasha took things too far… The young lady is a meteor freak.  She can control bees.  She eliminated her competition by sending swarms after them.  Paul is going to be okay, but I can’t say the same for Felice.  The poor girl is in a coma.  Eventually Sasha could no longer control her bees and they turned on her.  Clark saved her in a nick of time._

_All of which amounted to another crazy week in Smallville._

_Also, a reporter met with Lex.  Lionel and I set the whole thing up, but even for Lex’s intelligence, he only suspected his father.  Little by little, Lex is becoming his own person.  That should be a good thing, but he worries Lionel and I.  Lionel is a harsh disciplinarian who has no reservations about telling Lex he’s being an idiot._

_Lex is an idiot.  He’s a smart idiot.  He knows how to get people to like him.  For example, he helped Lana Lang renovate the Talon Theater, turning it into a coffeehouse.  It’s really sad what happened to her when she was young.  As much as I thought it was sweet that she wanted to see a place that held a certain memory for her family brought back to life, she couldn’t let that be the only reason.  From what I could tell, she bargained with Lex.  She managed to convince him that it would turn into a place that would actually thrive._

_She’s off to a lousy start, but the girl seems determined.  Also, I could be mistaken, but I do believe that Lex has a crush on the young woman.  She’s too young for him, but I would guess that his willingness to help her has less to do with lucrative deals and more about romantic feelings.  Lex can be very patient, subtle even.  He can make it look like a budding friendship when in reality he is biding his time, waiting for the opportune moment to open his heart._

_Really, I just don’t think that Lex is one who knows how to form a healthy relationship with anyone.  It feels exceedingly harsh, but so far he hasn’t shown anything to convince me otherwise.  I still go to bed at night wondering if he is still investigating Clark.  Perhaps he is biding his time with my son as well, waiting for Clark to make a display that suggests there is indeed more to him than meets the eye._

_It makes me want to keep a violent plan in store in case Lex steps out of line._

 

“Trixie, I positively hate you!”

Trixie turns around and puts her hand over her heart.  “Oh, Chloe that is that sweetest thing you ever said to me.  I hate you too.”

Chloe rolls her eyes and slumps against the wall.  Trixie wanted to take her to the Metropolis Satellite Building for a surprise.  Chloe was excited, but she had no idea that Trixie would talk her into using the stairs instead of the elevator.  If she had known, she would have worn sneakers instead of high heels. 

Chloe can tolerate the torture of walking all the way up to a penthouse.  Clark made her do it a few times, such as last spring break when he flew her to Paris.  He thought Paris was overrated, but she really wanted to go.  Then he convinced her to use the stairs to get all the way to the top of the Eiffel Tower.  She had worn sneakers, but it was still quite a workout. 

Halfway up this tower, and barefoot, Chloe’s feet are killing her!  Trixie could have warned her.  She could have told her that she ought to wear shoes more suitable for walking up several flights of stairs.  Now she is worried that she won’t be able to climb any more without hurting her feet. 

For this date, she chose to wear tight-fitting jeans and a red halter top underneath her wool coat.  Trixie is wearing similar, though darker colored jeans with her dark flannel and leather biker jacket.  She told Chloe once that the jacket used to belong to her friend, Maze.  From everything Trixie has said about this Maze, she seemed like a tough woman. 

She could be excessively violent with an even wickeder sense of humor, but somehow she always liked Trixie.  A bit of cool aunt, Chloe thinks.

By now Chloe has gone from being slumped against the wall to sinking into a sitting position.  Without looking, she knows that Trixie has some to stand beside her. 

“Do you need me to carry you?” asks Trixie.

Chloe stares up into those big brown eyes skeptically.  “Oh, so now you want to be Prince Charming?”

Trixie frowns indignantly.  “I’d prefer Anna to your Elsa or Kristoff, or Giselle to your Robert, but you don’t know those references, so I will settle for being your _Princess_ Charming.”

She’s right, Chloe doesn’t know those references.  She still won’t give details about where she is from.  All that she has been hinting are references to movies and television that Chloe has never heard of, that no search engine has an answer for.  Also, she has hinted to having met Clark before, or at least someone who looked remarkably similar to him, though older.  Actually, the phrase she used was “extremely older.”

Trixie Morningstar has all the reporter gears working in Chloe’s head and the urge to investigate is as strong her desire for coffee.  But Chloe doesn’t want to investigate her.  She wants to know more about her, but she wants to it properly.  She wants to get to know her over dates, nice meals, and times when they just get to hang out.

She even had to convince Lois to do the same with Clark.  Although, Chloe could say that while she thinks that which one of them is the better reporter is debatable, Lois is the most aggressive, if not the most reckless between the two of them.  Lois also hates surprises, but Chloe has confidence that Clark can make her tolerate them.  If not, she might start pulling her own hair out over Clark’s need for surprising people.

Chloe would love to see what surprises Trixie has in store for her.  If only, she didn’t have to make things so grueling, such as walking up a fifty-story building. 

“Would you really carry me?” she asks. 

“Absolutely,” replies Trixie with a wink. 

“And if you get tired before we reach the top?”

“Then we both slump against the wall.”

Chloe frowns.  “Then this date might end before you get to show me what you wanted to show me.”

Trixie tucks a loose strand of her hair behind her ear as she considers that thought.  She loves her pigtails and French braids and Chloe doesn’t even have enough hair to do such a thing.  In fact, she considered growing her hair out if only to see how she would look with such hairstyles.  Clark and Trixie have told her at different times that she should stick to her “sexy bobs.”  Chloe will admit that she has found a lot of things that she can do with the little amount of hair she usually has. 

“Should we just use the elevator?” Trixie asks with a defeated sigh.  “We will still have to climb another two flights of stairs to get to the top floor, but…”

“If it’s just two more, I think I’ll survive,” Chloe reassures with a wry smile.  “Then I’ll actually get to see what you have for us in those lunchboxes.”

Trixie blushes furiously.  When Chloe found out that they were having lunchbox dinners, she laughed.  It wasn’t a cruel laugh; it was startled and surprised laugh.  She had had plenty of picnic basket meals with Clark, but never _lunchbox_ meals with him.  She thinks it’s really clever, not to mention cute, and she told Trixie as much. 

It took some of the edge off and Trixie became less self-conscious about her method of packing their meals.  All she would say was that there was coffee.  She packed it in a thermos, so it went without saying. 

“Well then, let’s get to that elevator,” prompts Trixie. 

With effort, Chloe rises back to her feet.  By sitting down, she really got the chance to let her feet be in pain.  She winces as she returns to her feet, but she takes comfort in knowing that sooner rather than later she will have a chance to rest.  When she reaches Trixie, she is still waiting for an elevator to show up, tapping her foot as she waits.

A minute or two later, the elevator dings and the doors slide open.  Trixie then steps aside and bows playfully.  “Ladies first.”

Chloe raises her eyebrows.  “What does that make you?”

“I don’t know,” replies Trixie.  “I just thought I’d take up the role of gentleman.”  She proffers her hand again.

Chloe allows herself a giggle as she steps into the elevator.  Once inside, she turns around and beckons for Trixie to come in as well.  Trixie steps in and Chloe presses the highest number on the floor panel.  The doors close and the elevator begins to move upward. 

This elevator doesn’t even have music.  Chloe wonders if it’s just a thing from the movies as she herself had never actually been in an elevator that had music.  Almost lazily, she watches all the numbers slowly go up.  A habit she picked up from Clark, she quietly clicks her tongue between the numbers on the panel like a metronome.

When Lois does find out Clark’s secret—which she still hopes won’t scare her off from him—Chloe wonders how she will react to his piano skills.  He might have just been showing off, but Chloe clocked him playing _Flight of the Bumblebee_ at four and fifty hundred beats per minute.

Chloe isn’t sure what the space between floors would be equivalent to on a metronome.  She might have even researched music theory just for the fun of it, but hell if she could remember all that stuff. 

The elevator reaches the top floor—or at least the highest that this elevator could go—and the doors slide open again.  Chloe rolls her eyes and follows Trixie out of the elevator.  As she follows Trixie up the stairs, all Chloe can think is that her enthusiasm both annoys and intrigues her. 

It annoys her because sometimes she envies that sort of childlike enthusiasm.  It intrigues her because anywhere else, Trixie is very reserved and very rarely lashes out.  Also when they first met, it was weeks before she even said Chloe’s name. Chloe would eventually find out that her mother was also named Chloe.  Shouldn’t her mother be a happy memory?  So far, Chloe doesn’t know exactly what happened to Trixie’s mother.  All she does know is that she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

Chloe could be wrong, but she sometimes she wonders if Trixie resents her stepfather.  It could just be how she sometimes comes off as standoffish around him, or how she won’t always meet his gaze directly.  Either way, Chloe wonders if Trixie blames Lucifer for her mother’s death at all.  Trixie loves her half-sister, Emma.  Around her, Trixie actually seems like a girl. 

Trixie’s not the “man-with-breasts” as Lois has been labeled as from time to time, but she’s not the most feminine young woman in the world either. 

One more flight of stairs to go and Chloe looks at the stairs as contemptuously as possible.  With her coat draped over her arm, her shoes in one hand and purse in the other, Chloe takes a deep breath and steps forward.  Breathing heavily, she climbs the last flight of stairs. 

“C’mon, Chloe you can do it!” Trixie encourages. 

Chloe huffs.  “Maybe I should give you a pair of pompoms to complete your routine!”

“Ooh, is my date getting a little mean?” Trixie pouts.  “I’m not sure that I would look as good with pompoms you do in ballet tights.”

Chloe stops abruptly—on the second to last step—and scowls at Trixie.  No blushing; she did plenty of that when Clark teased her for showing up in his ballet class during her pompom juice high.  “I should throw one of these open-toed Prada heels at your head.”

Trixie presents herself invitingly.  “Give me your best shot, beautiful.”

She’s about to take up on that offer, but the word throws her off.  Instead, in a moment of uncharacteristic vulgarity, she does her best to present her middle fingers through her full hands. 

Trixie nods approvingly.  “Nice fingers, but that’s mean gesture.  Oh, well,” she laments.

Chloe smiles at her pouty face.  Taking the last couple of steps, she saunters toward her date.  Teasingly, she sidesteps her as Trixie tries to reach for her. “So what was it you wanted to show me?”

“I’m glad you asked,” says Trixie.  She steps forward and opens the door out of the stairwell.  As Chloe follows through, she isn’t sure what to think.  She doesn’t want to come off as rude, but the place is a mess.  Tarps, construction equipment, some scaffolding, the place looks like an abandoned interior design project. 

“I think I know what you’re thinking,” says Trixie. 

Chloe snaps back into focus and sees Trixie staring.  “Oh, um…”

Trixie holds up her hand.  “It’s okay; the place is a dump now, but in six months, maybe a year that might change.”

“What’s going to happen?” asks Chloe as she walks around a little more.  The place is pretty nondescript, but there is a glass door leading out to a balcony. 

“My stepdad, Lucifer plans to turn this dump into a nightclub,” explains Trixie.  “Maybe you don’t know this, but when we lived in Los Angeles, he was a nightclub owner.  A place called Lux.”

“The Latin word for light?” asks Chloe. 

“Yeah,” replies Trixie.  “I can remember when I first walked into the place.  I was seven, my parents—my mom and biological dad—were fighting and I just wanted to get away.  I ran away and went to a place where seven-year-olds shouldn’t go.  I was looking for Lucifer, hoping he’d be able to cheer me up, instead I found his henchwoman, Maze.  I miss her so much.”  She pauses as she smiles reminiscently.  “So, I introduced myself and the woman almost served me a Shirley Temple.”

Chloe narrows her eyes.  “Was she arrested?” what kind of moron would give a little girl alcohol like that?

Trixie laughs.  “No and my mom showed up before I could taste it.  Looking back now, I still wonder how I got a demon to like me.”

Chloe shrugs.  “If you’d behave around others the way you do around me or your little sister, you might just be everyone’s best friend.”

Trixie grimaces at the idea.  “No, no thank you.  I’m perfectly content with just getting along with you, Lois Lane, and Clark Queen.  If liked boys that way, I might actually try to steal him from Lois.  You think I’d be a good competition?”

The question catches Chloe off-guard.  Registering Trixie’s expression, she can tell it’s an honest question.  “I don’t know.  Clark thinks you’re beautiful; maybe you would have a shot.  It just might lead to a bloody conflict with my cousin.”

“I think I could take her,” says Trixie smugly.  “I was taught to fight by a demon.  I’m pretty sure that that trumps whatever Lois picked up growing on Army bases.”

Chloe raises an eyebrow.  She’s going to have to ask later about the demon part.  She also figures shouldn’t be so unfazed by the idea of demons, but it seems anything can happen in Smallville.  “You might just end up converting my cousin into liking girls instead of boys.”

“Maybe, but right now I’m hungry.  Do you want to see what I packed for you?”

Chloe’s eyes light up.  “Yes I do, but do you think we could eat on that balcony?”

“You read my mind.”  Trixie whips around and heads over to the sliding glass doors.  She has to pry it open. 

 _Yup, this place needs a lot of work_ , Chloe thinks as she follows Trixie out the door.  She joins Trixie down on the ground as she opens the lunchboxes.  Chloe inspects the food within.  Trixie describes each of them—a roasted steak with softened garlic and onions, mashed potatoes and gravy, and corn along with a Diet Coke.

“I’m sorry that there’s no microwave to heat any of this up,” Trixie apologizes.  “But I hope everything’s not too cold.”

“It all looks delicious,” Chloe reassures and she means it.  “What are _you_ having?”

“Much of the same, except for the Dr. Pepper,” replies Trixie.  “So, cheers?”

Chloe clinks Trixie’s bottle of soda.  “Cheers.” 

 

“So, does Lucifer know how he wants to decorate this place?” asks Chloe after a few minutes of eating. 

“He does,” replies Trixie.  “He won’t tell me exactly how he plans to decorate the place, but it probably won’t be anything too flamboyant.  All he knows it what he plans to call it.”

“What’s he going to call it?”

“His original plan was to call it ‘Chloe’s Den’ in honor of my mother, but she vetoed that.  They were playing poker and my mom laid down an ace of clubs and a king of clubs.  I don’t know anything about poker, as much as Lucifer has tried to show me, but he got inspired.”  She giggles.  “He came up with the name for this future club over a hand of poker.  This…” she gestures around.  “This penthouse is going to be the Ace of Clubs.”

Chloe laughs.  “That’s a cute story.”

“Yeah, I just wish that my mother could have lived to see Lucifer actually breathe life into the project.”  Trixie looks out into the city longingly.  “My parents used to argue about what I ought to be when I grew up.  Both my parents were detectives, but before my mom was a cop, she was an actress.  My grandmother threw her into every acting class and audition she could get her into.  Eventually it just made her a bit of a one-hit wonder.  For as long as I can remember, there was the occasional moron who would ask her, ‘Aren’t the lady from _Hot Tub High School_?’ and she hated it.  The only thing they really remembered about it was her topless scene from that movie.”

Chloe blinks several times.  “I bet that haunted her for the longest time.”

“It did,” confirms Trixie.  “Even Kate Winslet has had other notable roles than _Titanic_ where all people—especially boys—can talk about is her nude scene.”

Chloe frowns.  “Hey, that’s a good movie!”

Trixie scoffs.  “Please, it’s _so_ overrated.  Right on the same level as _The Notebook_.”

“Okay, I agree with you about _The Notebook_ , but _Titanic_ is _not_ overrated.”

“Is.”

“Isn’t.”

“Is infinity.”

Chloe crosses her arms.  “What are we, fifth-graders?  I can’t believe you just used ‘infinity’ in that context.”

“It got you to shut up, didn’t it?”

She sounds so unbearably smug.  “You’re unbelievable.”

“Thank you, Chloe, and you are really gorgeous and you have a bit of potato on your nose.”

Chloe crosses her eyes.  Indeed there is a smidgeon of potato on the tip of her nose. 

“Here, let me get that for you,” offers Trixie.  She wets her thumb with her tongue and then reaches over and wipes off Chloe’s nose.  Chloe just sits there frozen for a minute or two.  She bores into the chocolaty depths of Trixie’s eyes.  Never in her life did she think that she would actually get a chance to go on a date with a girl.  She was truthful when she told Clark that she would love no other guy the way she loved him and that she never would again and she meant it. 

She’s nowhere near ready to say that she loves Trixie; it’s too early in their relationship.  Still, so far Chloe has enjoyed every minute of her.  Without thinking, she reaches across their lunchboxes and captures Trixie’s lips. 

She catches herself off-guard as much as she does Trixie.  This is the first kiss that Chloe has initiated, not just with Trixie, but with any girl.  Soon, Trixie gains confidence and places her hand in Chloe’s hair, gently holding her close as she parts her lips.  Then, Chloe feels Trixie’s tongue touch her own.  This is totally unfamiliar ground for her, but she would like to remedy that.  She swirls her own tongue around the one that has invaded her mouth.  She feels Trixie’s other hand touch her chest and Chloe realizes that she would very much like her touch her breasts. 

Then, abruptly, Trixie pulls away.  As Chloe’s eyes swim back into focus, she frowns indignantly.  Trixie smiles softly.  “Let’s work our way up to that.”

Chloe nods silently, not knowing what to say.  Suddenly, something catches her attention.  She rises to her feet and goes over to the stone railing to get a better look.  What she sees in the distance horrifies her.  “Oh, my God.”

“What is it?” asks Trixie as she walks over.  Then she echoes Chloe’s words. 

“Sorry, Trixie, I have to make a call.”

“Yeah, I will too.”

Chloe walks back into the penthouse and fishes out her phone.  After dialing, she paces as she waits impatiently the phone to pick up.  “Come on, come on, answer the phone,” she mutters.

“Chloe?”

“Clark!” she lets out a sigh of relief.  “Thank God you answered.”

“Chloe, I’m out with Lois, is something wrong?” asks Clark.  Chloe suspects he would sound more annoyed, but she also suspects that he knows she wouldn’t have bothered him on a date if it wasn’t an emergency.

It’s time for her best friend to be the hero she knows he can be.  “Clark, the children’s center is on fire.”     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chloe's arc is turning into my first lesbian story. It's unfamiliar ground for me, but the more I write it, the more exciting it is for me. Hope you all enjoyed this update. Sorry if I'm not posting more than one update each weekend at the moment. And it probably will have to wait until next week, but I can say that there will be a big reveal.


	41. Chapter Forty

_May 20 th, 2002_

_Clark is so nervous!  I’ve never seen him so indecisive about which one of his tuxes to wear.  Usually, he seems to have some sort of system, knowing which suit is appropriate for which occasions.  He’s even been to a few functions where dancing was an option.  Between his ballet and tango lessons, plus whatever he’s picked up along the way, he’s a pretty skilled dancer.  Usually, he dances with a young lady or two, as well as his mother.  I’m glad he has no shame in dancing with his mother._

_So why should he be so nervous about something like the Spring Formal?  Well, several days ago, Clark finally plucked up the courage to ask out his best friend, Chloe Sullivan.  He had saved her life—again—and at the same time, he discovered how much he had grown to care about her.  I wouldn’t say that he had a longstanding crush on her.  If there is anybody that he had a “crush” on, it would be Patricia Swann.  She’s a little too old for him, but whenever she would show up during one of his lessons with Virgil, according to Virgil, he would turn a deep shade of red and get a little clumsy._

_If nothing else, I’m glad that Clark can make the poor man laugh once in a while.  I don’t think I’ll ever stop feeling bad for my oldest friend.  It was tragic when Virgil became paralyzed after his horseback riding accident.  For a while, when he was first coming to grips with his condition, he compared himself to Stephen Hawking.  I’ve never had the privilege of meeting the man, but he’s brilliant.  Also the man’s life is a constant battle of ALS.  While Virgil breathes with the help of a machine, at least he can still speak._

_Still, while he’s been making the best use of his condition, Virgil hates his life.  He loves his daughter, dotes on her, managed to make it to her high school graduation, will most likely make it to her college graduation, and he’s been an amazing mentor to Clark, but he hates his life.  Honestly, I think when it does come death will be a kindness to him.  I would never wish tetraplegia on anyone, except maybe Lionel Luthor.  Maybe losing the use of even just two of his limbs would help him find a soul._

_Enough of that, Clark’s lessons with Virgil seem quite interesting.  Virgil has been teaching him to read and write the Kryptonian language.  Now, Clark can’t speak it.  For all of Virgil’s research, he can’t speak Kryptonian.  It’s difficult to know how to actually speak a language where there is virtually nothing on Earth that can lead back to it.  That’s why people can speak dead languages like Latin and Gaulish.  There are languages derived from them._

_Anyway, Clark’s understanding of the language is about as good as anyone learning a second language.  It might come off as little natural for him, thanks to his heritage, but he didn’t grow up knowing it.  Now he can write a report in Kryptonian.  It’s also ignited a sense of interest in his birth planet.  I also feel like it’s given him a new sense of depression._

_Virgil believes that he has found where Clark’s homeworld—is that one word?—might have been once.  However long it took Clark to get here, somewhere in that time and during his lifetime here, the light that his star gave off has been extinguished.  It’s a scary thought.  One day our sun might suffer the same fate.  It might not be massive, or bright enough to end in a supernova or black hole, but it might happen._

_This dance, spending time with Chloe, getting the chance to see her in a lovely dress (which Laura seems to have helped pick out) will be good for him.  A storm seems to be brewing, but maybe it won’t come in time to ruin Clark and Chloe’s evening._

_If anything, at the moment, the only thing that will ruin Clark’s evening tomorrow will be if he doesn’t relax.  On the upside, it’s kind of sweet that he’s putting so much effort into making sure he wears the right tux, uses the right cologne.  The only thing he was completely confident about was the corsage.  He knew Chloe’s dress would be pink, thanks to his friend Ryan, so he got a corsage that he felt would match the dress he hasn’t even seen yet._

_Also, according to Clark, news of him going to the Spring Formal with Chloe Sullivan has circulated through the school like wildfire.  Even Lana Lang, the girl who is supposedly dating Whitney Fordman (who signed up for the Marines) seemed quite jealous.  Clark has always been a gentleman, even bought Lana a coffee once, but he’s never reciprocated her crush on him._

_As for what’s going on with me, Lionel recently announced, quite abruptly, his intention to close the LuthorCorp plant here in Smallville.  We both agree that Lex’s business skills aren’t up to par, but I’ve seen improvement, if only slightly.  Either way, shutting down the plant will put a number of people out of a job.  Knowing Lionel, I do have to wonder, is he closing the plant because he feels it necessary, or is it just another one of his awful tests on Lex?_

_For once, I’m actually rooting for Lex.  I’d hate to see the plant close.  Then again, maybe Pete Ross’s father might end up buying the place back and reopening his creamed corn factory.  It’s a venture that I’d be more than willing to pour some of my money into._

_I guess I’ll have to see what happens._

Clark was an inch from kissing Lois when Chloe called.  Even if he knew that she wouldn’t have called unless it was an emergency, he was still a bit aggravated by the ruined moment.  When he heard what she had to say, that the children’s center was on fire, his ruined date became the least of his concerns.

After apologizing to Lois, telling her he had to step out for a few minutes, he walked out of the Mexican buffet and rounded a corner.  He could hear Lois following after him, asking what the hell was going on, but he didn’t have time to explain himself.  As soon as he was out of sight of anyone, he shot into the sky.

Now, as he reaches a high vantage point, he looks toward the children’s center.  Even if he didn’t know right where it was, the fiery blaze is very hard to miss.  Not wasting any time being grateful that it’s dark enough out that he can’t be spotted by the random onlooker, he focuses his hearing.

There are still people trapped inside the building.  Taking a deep breath, he flies faster than what is probably necessary towards the building which is only seven blocks away.  He’s pretty sure the shock wave of his flight shattered more than few windows.  As careful as he always tries to be with his powers, it’s one of the last things on his mind. 

The fire department beat him to the building.  He stops for a minute and observes.  Why haven’t any of them gone into the building yet?  Then he sees.  The entrance is welded shut.  Who would do such a thing?  He flies around the building and sees that all other exits, including those onto the fire escape are welded shut as well.  This is clearly arson. 

As much as he would like to be angry, ask who would do such a thing to one of his mother’s most beloved projects, there are people in there that will die of smoke inhalation if not combustion.  He x-rays the building.  It looks like one of the adults has gathered most of the children and they are trying to find a way out.  It looks like they are being led to the roof.  Another adult is on her cellphone.  He listens in on the conversation and hears that the woman is communicating with the fire chief. 

The fire chief says there’s a helicopter on the way.  That’s when Clark hears the helicopter.  There are weak points on the roof that are about to give way.  Also, the entrance to the roof is welded shut as well.  If only Clark could _blow_ out the fires.  What he wouldn’t give to have that kind of power at the moment.  It would be a lot more effective than the spray of the ladder truck, or the firefighters trying to cut through one of the boarded windows, or the front door. 

How and when did anyone have the time to do all this to a very conspicuous building?  Clark has spent enough time dawdling.  He descends from his vantage point and lands on the roof, making sure not to land so hard that he falls right through the weakening roof. 

His clothes are going to get ruined either way, but out of habit, he sheds his Dolce & Gabbana blazer and rolls up the sleeves of his blue shirt.  He walks toward the exit off the roof and stares contemptuously at where it’s been welded shut.  Before he touches the door, he hesitates.  He can’t let anyone see his face.  It’s March, and it’s still cold out.  He’s wearing a scarf.   

“I hope I don’t get sued for damages,” he mutters as he takes the scarf off and wraps it around his head, covering half his face.  Using his heat vision, he burns a couple of holes for his eyes.  After making sure that no one is on the other side, he punches the door as hard as he can.  The door flies off its hinges, hitting the slanted ceiling before clattering down the steps. 

Then Clark steps in and begins descending the stairs.  He’s down a flight and a half before he finds his path blocked by an inferno.  This path is blocked.  Either everyone saw that and started seeking another route, or they haven’t come across the part yet.  He x-rays the building again and sees the children and social workers.  He can’t waste any more time. 

He bursts into superspeed, running straight through the fire.  Even in his inhuman speed, some of the flames have caught his clothes.  This was one of the last suits his mother helped him pick out before her death.  Try as hard as he might to not give in to materialism, this suit has some sentimental value! 

“I’m sorry, Mom, but it’s for a good cause,” he says, his voice breaking. 

No longer concerned about being seen, he intercepts the building’s occupants.  He finds them rushing through a hallway, coughing or desperately trying to block out some of the smoke with everything from scarves to wet dishcloths.  He stops right in front of them. 

He sees their awe.  AS far as they are concerned, he just materialized out of thin air accompanied by a gust of wind. 

“How did you get in here?” asks a social worker that he recognizes as Colleen Daniels.  “Where did you come from?”

“There’s no time to explain,” Clark shushes her, disguising his voice as best he can.  “We have to get out of here.”

“How?” asks a child.

“We’ve tried all the exits, tried to break a window…” adds another. 

“I can get you all out of here, but you have to do exactly as I say!” he shouts over the panicked chatter.  “Now, I need you all to follow me to the front doors.”

“But, sir, they’re welded—”

“JUST LISTEN TO ME!” Clark screams.  He doesn’t like to if he can avoid it, but once in a while he can be a very imposing figure.  He towers over most of these people and this is not the time for him to be everyone’s best friend.  “Now, stay close and follow me.” 

He turns around and begins to lead them through the building.  A straight path to the exit is compromised due to the flames, so he does his best to avoid areas that are on fire.  The flames do him no harm, but he still has to remind himself not to panic.  It was an explosion that killed his parents.  Once or twice, he’s had to save someone that he cares about from fire, including his brother and Chloe.  Involuntarily, his imagination is flooded with one of these children running around screaming as they are eaten away by fire. 

It’s quite possible that he has a personal vendetta against fire.  If so, he considers it a blessing.  It’s all the more motivation to prevent as many people as he can to not end up looking like the charred remains of the people who raised him.  It’s bad enough that it’s permanently etched into his memory, but it will be worse if the charred remains of a child, someone who dies before they really got to live, were to be on his conscience.

Finally, he manages to lead them into the entry hall.  There’s a problem. 

“Oh, shit,” swears one of the children.  The doors are surrounded by fire. 

“Sir—whoever you are—we can’t get out this way!”

“No, I think we can!” Clark argues.  “Just-just give me a minute.”

“ _We don’t have a minute_!” shrieks one of the older children. 

Clark doesn’t listen.  Maybe he can blow this door down.  “Everyone, please just step aside!”  He shoos everyone away and focuses on the door.  “Just like the big bad wolf,” Clark says to himself.  He takes a deep breath, as deep as he can.  He holds it for a minute.  Finally, he releases his breath as hard as he can. 

To his astonishment, his breath literally comes out as a gust of wind.  The wind beats down the flames, but doesn’t put them out.  “It’s just like blowing out an enormous candle,” Clark encourages himself.  Just like when his mother would encourage him to think of flying as simply rising off the ground and willing himself to go forward. 

He takes another deep breath and blows even harder.  This time the flames actually die.  Around him, he hears startled cheers.  Maybe it’s just the heat of the moment—and isn’t that just a pun, Clark thinks—but the good reception boosts Clark’s confidence.  With the flames dead, he trudges forward and with all his might, he pushes the welded doors with both his hands.  The doors give way like paper under his strength.  The doors fly off their hinges and graze a fire truck. 

“Whoops,” Clark mutters.  Shaking his head, he begins to file everyone out of the building.  These firefighters, police officers, and onlookers have no idea who he is, but they are applauding.  Those who aren’t are approaching the building’s freed occupants with medical bags and steering them towards ambulances. 

As Clark watches everyone, he notices someone is missing. 

Someone else notices too.

“Where’s Eileen?” shouts Ms. Daniels.  The woman tries to rush back into the building but a firefighter grabs her despite her protests that there’s still a child inside. 

Clark rushes back inside.  He x-rays the building, taking care to check every inch.  A minute or two later, he spots Eileen.  The poor girl is hiding in a closet on the third floor.  Clark speeds up there, through flames, rubble, and smoke.  His clothes are becoming a patchwork of singe marks, nicks, and flames that he has to bat away before he bursts into flames.  He would like to go home with ruined clothes than no clothes. 

Using what seems to be a new ability, he tries to smother flames as best he can.  If he has this kind of lung capacity, he would hate to see what would happen if he sneezed.  He could bet his car that it would be destructive.

He makes it to the room that Eileen is in.  The poor girl is terrified of fire.  If Clark will be honest, so is he.  He would like to call himself on the irony of fearing something that can’t harm him, but everybody is afraid of something.  Everyone also has their reasons for fearing what they fear.

He breaks down the door and steps inside.  The room is free of flames, but he can’t say the same for all the smoke.  Time is critical.  If he doesn’t get Eileen out in the next few minutes, the smoke will kill her.

Closing the distance to the closet, he reaches out and opens it.  Therein, he finds Eileen. 

She squeals as he opens the door.  Maybe it’s okay to let her know who he is. 

“Eileen, it’s okay, it’s me,” Clark assures her, taking off his scarf.

Eileen’s eyes widen.  “Clark?  How are you not coughing?”

“It’s complicated,” replies Clark.  “Listen, I need to get you out of here.”  He reaches out to take her hand, but she shrinks away from him.  Clark tries to be a little gentler despite the circumstances. 

“Eileen, this building is about to fall apart.  At this rate, you’re going to die before that happens.  Don’t you think your parents would want you to grow up?  Go to college, start a family, die an old woman?”

Tears are streaming down Eileen’s face.  “I miss my mom and dad.”

Clark smiles tearfully.  “I miss mine too.  I’d love to see them again, but I’d like to live a pretty long life before I do.  Wouldn’t you like to do the same?  I don’t think dying in a fire is a very dignified way to go.”  He offers his hand again.  He could just grab her, but this is a friend.  Trust is more important to him. 

Shakily, Eileen reaches out and takes his hand.  He scoops her up into his arms just as she reaches out and grabs a framed photograph.  He wishes he could have saved the photographs that were in his family’s plane.

With Eileen in his arms, Clark rushes out of the building as flames lick at his back.  He could be rushing at superspeed, but his friend’s safety is more important.  Rubble is crumbling all around him.  The newly enflamed exit is only a few feet away.  Flashes of his parents, one minute smiling and laughing with him, and the next burning as pieces of their plane fall from twenty thousand feet, play in his vision.  He blinks back tears.

“No, someone I care about _is not going to die today_!” Clark screams in anguish, his voice breaking.

He feels the heat of the fire and he wishes he could feel what others feel when they are on fire.  If only so he could empathize with their pain.  He _wants_ to feel that pain.  He _should_ feel that pain.  All that anger comes out in a furious scream as he rushes out the door, followed by a blowout.  He shields Eileen from the flames. 

When the flames die down, he finally releases the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.  He locks eyes with Eileen. 

“You’ll be okay, Eileen,” he promises as he sets her up right.  “I have to go now.”

Before anyone can approach him, or get a clear view of his face, he shoots into the sky.  He stops at a department store and selects a new set of clothes identical to his ruined suit.  He drops a few bills so that they are paid for and makes sure the security tags are removed.  He changes into the new suit as fast as he can—under a few seconds. 

If any luck, Lois won’t be too angry about him bailing on her.  He shoots into the sky again and returns to an alley near the Mexican buffet.  Landing softly in the shadows, he smooths down his suit, buttons the blazer and heads toward the Mexican buffet.

“You changed your clothes, Peter Pan.”

Clark stops in midstride.  He turns and sees Lois step out of the shadows.  He exhales slowly.  “Hi, Lois, how are you?”    


	42. Chapter Forty-One

_June 5 th, 2002_

_I’m not living in Smallville right now.  For the first time since my family relocated to Smallville, Laura, Clark, and I are living in our house in Star City.  Of course we don’t plan to live here fulltime; Clark still goes to Smallville High.  Of course, we love this house.  It has housed several generations of my family.  However, Smallville is where my family belongs at the moment._

_Unfortunately, we cannot live in our Smallville home at the moment.  Thanks to a violent storm of sister tornadoes a few weeks ago.  Our house suffered.  It’s not destroyed, thank God, but there has been some significant damage.  Until it’s been fully repaired, which should only take about a month and a half, my family are bunked in our Star City home…much to Clark’s dismay._

_That silly boy has himself a girlfriend.  The same day as the tornadoes, Clark had his Spring Formal.  I don’t care if fifteen-year-olds in Smallville drive without licensed drivers in the front seat.  I wouldn’t allow it, even if Clark said the classic “But everyone else does.”  I’m not “everyone else.”  It’s one thing if Clark is driving a pickup while working on the Kent farm, but I’m not going to let Clark do something that would get him a ticket in a heartbeat were we in Star City._

_So, I called a limo.  Clark was embarrassed by what he called the grandiosity of using a limo, but his date, Chloe, liked it.  She looked lovely in that strapless pink dress.  The budding intrepid reporter is growing up into a lovely young woman.  I voiced such while I watched Clark and his date leave for the dance and Laura wondered out loud if she should be worried about me becoming a pedophile._

_It wasn’t a funny joke and I told her as much.  I’m no pedophile and I definitely don’t sleep with my twenty-something-year-old secretaries.  I can acknowledge a young woman’s beauty without expressing any sexual desire._

_Things went downhill pretty quickly at home while they were away.  I caught a man, a reporter by the name of Roger Nixon snooping around.  Not on my property, but on the Kents’ property.  My wife and I were having dinner with Jonathan and Martha.  After we finished eating, Jonathan and I stepped out for a couple of minutes.  We could tell a storm was coming.  One of the downsides of living in the Midwest are the tornadoes. This part of Kansas, according to Jonathan, doesn’t get many tornadoes but it happens often enough for everyone in town to have storm cellars._

_When the storm did come, we grabbed our wives and raced for the storm cellar.  Laura was going insane, worrying about our son.  Truth be told, I too had trouble keeping calm.  However, he was at the school.  He would be in the windowless gym where he’d be safe.  Really, he would be okay either way, but it’s better that he’s not running around._

_So we got to the storm cellar and that’s where we found Roger Nixon.  He found the vault underneath the cellar.  Of course, he couldn’t get into it, but the Queen Industries logo was unmistakable.  He wanted to know what a farmer and his wife could be hiding in such a vault that they can’t afford.  It was none of his business and Jonathan swore that when the storm was over, he’d call the sheriff and have Nixon arrested for trespassing._

_Both my property and Jonathan’s property have “no trespassing signs for the same reasons—Clark.  Turns out, Mr. Nixon has been spying on the place for quite some time.  He said he had pictures of Clark slamming posts into the ground with his bare hand, lifting tractors and other vehicles a few feet off the ground while Jonathan worked on them.  My garage at home has a lift in it, but the Kents don’t have that sort of thing.  Nixon also said he had pictures of Clark flying, both leisurely and doing things around the house and the Kent farm._

_I don’t know if he was bluffing, but he said he had copies of film.  He was going to take it to the press, make himself rich.  Reporting is a very risky profession.  It’s very easy to make people angry, cross ethical boundaries, and even lose your soul all for the sake of hunting down a story.  It’s what reporters do.  They cut into people’s business with or without their permission._

_Chloe Sullivan is growing up to be a tough-as-nails reporter and sometimes it has caused tense moments with her friends, especially Clark.  Chloe’s not a bad person.  She’s just like any young woman, full of naivety, and having a lot to learn._

_Nixon surprised us all when he pulled out a gun and tried to blackmail us.  When Jonathan snatched his camera and tried to smash it, Nixon warned us that he could write a disparaging article about all of us.  He threatened that he could write something, while without sufficient evidence, would have people turning their heads toward us for “allegedly hiding a ‘super-powered freak’.”  That didn’t have to happen.  All we (my wife and I) had to do was sit down for an interview with him.  In that interview, we would have disclosed everything about Clark._

_I don’t like threats.  I’m pretty powerful.  I could crucify Roger Nixon’s career.  I could get him indicted for trespassing and extortion, or at least the threat of extortion.  I could put a mark of Cain on his record whereupon he would never find employment with any newspaper ever again._

_Instead, Jonathan and I did things the old-fashioned way.  We fought him.  It’s a blur now, but in the ensuing fight, the gun discharged.  The bullet went right through Nixon’s chest.  I don’t know about Jonathan, but for days I kept looking at my hands seeing blood that isn’t mine._

_When the storm ended and the dust settled, we explained things as best we could to the police._

_If things weren’t crazy enough, before we packed up and headed off to Star City, Clark revealed that he told Chloe his secret.  My mind just went blank!  The only word I could form was “What?”_

_Clark explained that he and Chloe were having a great evening.  Clark got the band Remy Zero to play one of Chloe’s favorite songs and things went pretty uphill from there.  They danced.  They even kissed.  It was in the middle of their kiss that the principal announced that a tornado was coming and asked everyone to stay inside the gym.  Clark and Chloe’s mutual friend, Lana Lang was out in the storm still, having left the bus station after saying goodbye to her boyfriend, Whitney Fordman._

_Clark being Clark wanted to save her.  He left Chloe when she wasn’t looking.  He saved his friend Lana, who has had a bit of pitiful crush on him for as long as they had known each other.  Chloe was a bit insecure of the fact.  Clark has no interest in Lana Lang.  Still, Chloe was very upset that he left her without telling her.  Even if he was saving someone’s life, I do believe that it was justified.  After all, he promised not to leave her._

_So, the following day, Clark and Chloe were helping find Lex, who had gotten stuck under some debris from the storm.  Clark apologized for leaving her and offered to make it up to her.  Chloe tried to tell him that she thought it’d be better if they just remained “really good friends.”_

_Clark came home deeply saddened by that.  When he told us about it, Laura scolded him.  Chloe wanted to be more than just friends.  Clark seemed dumbfounded.  Clark can be assertive, thoughtful, and kind, but sometimes he can be a little slow.  Laura told him to leave and not come back until he convinced Chloe that he did indeed want to be more than just friends._

_I guess somewhere in that conversation he had with Chloe, he got desperate and revealed his secret to her.  Specifically, first he “super-sped in front her, cutting her off before she left, then he placed his hands on her hips and rose off the ground,” as he put it.  Then, when he flew her to a nice place to sit down, he gave her the full disclosure—his alien heritage and the powers he has so far.  I say “so far” because I have a gut feeling that more will come as he gets older._

_He said Chloe was initially dumbfounded, but it took her all of ten seconds to say “I always knew there was something special about you.”_

_Now that Chloe knows his secret, and that they agreed to bring their relationship to a romantic level, Clark has been flying to and from Smallville.  Yesterday, he begged me to let him fly Chloe here to spend a week with us.  He’s going to have to ask Gabe.  I haven’t given him my answer yet._

_All I can think right now is that I hope things turn out well for them.  Hopefully Chloe won’t become overburdened with Clark’s secret._

_I guess all any of us can do is sit back and see what happens._

“Lois, will you please not look at me like that?” Clark might have sounded more pleading than he meant to, but he doesn’t care. 

Time seems to have slowed down as Lois just stares at him.  He isn’t sure what to call the look she’s giving him.  It’s not awe.  It’s not fear.  It’s not disgust.  It’s not the “I-always-knew-there-was-something-special-about-you” look Chloe gave him.  It’s definitely not that look Pete gave him when he slowly circled him as if searching for any physical sign of his inhumanity.  Perhaps that’s exactly the problem—he doesn’t know what to make of the look Lois is giving him.

“Lois, please say something,” Clark tries again. 

Lois blinks and shakes her head.  “What can I say?  I just saw my boyfriend fly, he’s wearing a different suit, and he smells like he came out of a fire.”  She narrows her eyes.  Perhaps she’s putting everything together.  “Wait, did you ditch me to go to something about that fire everyone’s been clamoring about?”

Clark nods carefully.  “Somebody had to.”

“And?”

“Everyone got out.”

Lois nods slowly and begins pacing around.  “So you can fly _and_ you’re invulnerable to fire?”

“Yeah,” replies Clark. 

“But that’s not all, is it?” it sounds like a question, but by her tone she might already know the answer. 

“No.”

“What else can you do?” asks Lois.

Clark hesitates.  He has rehearsed several times how he would reveal all he can do and not just to Lois.  All those times he stood in front of his bathroom mirror, trying to word how he would reveal his secrets, to build a sense of confidence, and give some reassurance that he’s still the same person…it’s like studying for a test and forgetting everything you have studied when the test comes.  He also wonders if the fact that he hasn’t known Lois for very long has something to do with how nervous he is right now. 

He might as well be standing naked before her and being asked to describe every detail of his body like a salesperson. 

“Um, I can lift the weight of an aircraft carrier over my head,” Clark tries. 

Lois’ face remains unchanged, but her body betrays her reactions.  She stiffens up as if he froze her.  He has no freezing abilities. 

“I can run faster than a speeding bullet, if not light at this point; I have heat vision; bullets bounce right off of me; in that fire I discovered…super-breath for lack of a better word; I can see through things…”

At that last revelation, a look mingled with embarrassment and indignation spreads across Lois face as she pulls her coat tightly around her front.  If only she knew that he has a clear image of her full front and it’s not because of his x-ray vision.  He never did tell her about what happened when she was possessed by that witch.  He’s not even sure if he _wants_ to.  It’s not a good memory.

Lois shakes her head.  “You think you have enough abilities?”

Clark considers that question thoughtfully.  “It’s crossed my mind; I’d be satisfied with just the strength, running, and flight.  Maybe even the bulletproof skin.”

“Hmm, and I thought Chloe was always exaggerating about how ‘special’ you are,” muses Lois. 

Judging by her tone, it doesn’t sound like she agrees all that much.  “What word would you use?”

“How about ‘freaky’?” she suggests.  “Or ‘mind-boggling’, or ‘Is there something else you are not telling me’?”

Clark sighs heavily.  “I was hoping to tell you all of this later…”

“Later?” Lois repeats, so loudly that Clark jumps.  “Just how long were you planning on going on without telling me about…all of this?” she gestures with her hands.  

“I don’t know,” Clark replies softly.  “I’ve known you less than a year and I feel like we are still getting to know each other.  Telling you about what I can do, where I am from, all seemed to be at the very bottom of my list of things to share.  At least until you really got a chance to see who I am as a person.”

Lois crosses her arms.  “So are you telling me that there may have been a few lies you’ve told me?”

The accusing tone hits Clark like a block of kryptonite.  “I have not told you a single lie,” he replies slowly and carefully.  “When you asked me where I was from, I told you that I’m not from anywhere around here.”

“So where are you from?”

“Lois…”

“JUST ANSWER THE DAMN QUESTION!” she shrieks.

“I’m not from anywhere near this galaxy!” shouts Clark, exasperated. 

Lois’ face goes completely blank.  He might as well have just slapped her across the face.  He doesn’t really care for domestic violence.  In fact, he once smashed a man’s hands when he found out he was beating on his wife and eight-year-old daughter.  He tries not to resort to violence, but things like that, or Chloe’s near-rape incident, Clark has no reservations about violence.  At least enough violence to send a message; he’s not a killer.

“So, are you telling me that the guy I’ve been dating—my sweet cousin’s ex, no less—is…an _alien_?” she barely whispers the word. 

“I prefer ‘intergalactic traveler’,” he informs her.  “It’s so much less vulgar.”

Lois says nothing as she begins pacing again. 

“Lois, I realize this is all a lot to take in, but…”

She stops and rounds on him.  “A lot to take in?” she repeats, shouting.  She scoffs.  “That has to be the biggest understatement I’ve heard in my life!”

“It’s not exactly something that I can just share with everyone!” cries Clark, his voice breaking. 

“What about me, Clark Queen?” she asks in a dangerous whisper.  “We’ve been _dating_ for fuck’s sake.  What were you planning to do—wait until I cornered you into bed?  Oh, my God were you ready to _sleep with me_ without even telling me what you are?”

Clark blushes furiously.  He also chooses his next words very carefully.  “I wanted you to know everything about me before we got to that stage.”

Lois scoffs.  “How noble of you.”

“Why are you so upset?” asks Clark, throwing up his hands. 

Lois raises an eyebrow.  “Are you seriously asking me that?  I thought you were intelligent.”  She starts pacing yet again.  “Clark, this has probably been one of the craziest years of my life.  I spend a summer moping around thinking that my cousin—who is sometimes the only family I really love—is dead.  I find a guy naked in a field who turns out to not only be my cousin’s now ex-boyfriend, but also knew what really happened to my cousin.  I nearly break my fist punching him in the face, which _never_ happens to me.  I’ve almost died more times this year than any year in my whole life.  I black out on Chloe’s birthday only to wake up in a cave and feeling like someone nearly bit off my tongue.  I went through a whole box of popsicles and I have no idea why.”

Clark tries not to show any sign that would give away his guilt over that. 

“Then, a date with my cousin’s ex which was only meant to relieve some of the awkwardness between us turns into an even more awkward relationship.  Never in my life did I imagine being the bitch that breaks girl code by dating her cousin’s ex-boyfriend, but I did.  You know I’m still trying to tell myself that I’m not a horrible human being for that?  Finally, after it seems we only just started dating without any awkwardness between us, I find out that he doesn’t only have a _shitload_ of powers but is also an _intergalactic traveler_.

"All of that--in less than twelve fucking months!”

Seemingly finished with her tirade, Lois breathes hard.  “I think I liked you better when you were just some cute, albeit angsty—and with good reason—billionaire with an old-fashioned sense of good manners.  You were like that old-fashioned gentleman I might have seen in a black and white movie.  Now…” she trails off. 

“I’m still the same person,” Clark whispers tearfully. 

Lois sighs heavily as she shakes her head.  “I’m sure you are, Clark.”

“Lois, I…” Clark steps toward her, but she holds a hand out. 

“Don’t touch me,” she says.  The tone is gentle, but the words make Clark feel…grimy. 

He suddenly feels as if he hadn’t showered in days.  He feels contagious, like his skin is coated in some deadly poison, or just has a really bad case of mononucleosis.  It’s turning into one of those moments where he wishes he could relate to illnesses that other people are capable of suffering. 

“Clark, I’m sorry, but I need a break,” Lois apologizes.  “I need some time to process this bombshell.  I can tell that this is a secret that weighs heavily on you and I am deeply sorry for that.  You and I both know that I have an unapologetically big mouth, maybe even worse than Chloe.  I finally understand why she’s lost some of that impulsive streak of hers.”  She chuckles softly.  “Even when her penchant for cutting into people’s business gets on your nerves, it’s hard to truly hate her for it.”

Clark nods in spite of everything.  “She does have a way of growing on you,” he agrees.  “You and Chloe both share that quality.  It’s part of the reason why I keep telling you that you two would make a great team in journalism.”

A sheepish smile spreads across Lois’ face.  “The more you say it, the more I find myself starting to believe it.”  Her smile disappears again, probably having noticed they got off topic.  “I give you my word that your secret is safe with me, but like I said, until I can figure out what this means for us, I need a break.”

“Take all the time you need,” Clark encourages as tears roll down his cheeks.

Lois smiles, but as sad as she looks, there are no tears in her eyes.  Is she putting up the tough act?  Is she just too freaked out for there to be any room for sadness?  “Goodnight, Clark.”  She walks back towards the restaurant. 

“Does this mean you’re not going to drive me home?” Clark asks, but Lois already disappears around the corner.  He figures that it’s best not to go after her. 

He sighs heavily, staring up at the sky.  “That went well.”  He shoots up into the sky with no real sense of where he’s going. 


	43. Chapter Forty-Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone had a Happy Easter, even if it was also April Fool's Day. I'm sure some weren't expecting what happened in the previous chapter, but that's part of the point. 
> 
> Have a great week!

_July 4 th, 2002_

_It’s amazing how people come together to fix what’s broken in the wake of disasters.  Especially in small towns like Smallville people are very kind.  While I might have hired professionals to fix my house, several people, including Jonathan and Martha, volunteered to help out as well.  What could I say?  I wasn’t going to deny help from people who have accepted me as part of their community and as of last week, my family has gone back to living in that house._

_I have no reservations bragging about how the townsfolk accept me as part of their community.  Even Lionel is still seen as a bit of an outsider.  Strangest thing, he’s blind.  I’m not sure exactly what happened to him in the storm, but whatever happened left him blind.  He’s a pretty good liar, but so am I.  It takes a good liar to know a good liar, and he’s not faking it.  That’d be low, even for him.  Also, even more curious he and Lex seem to be in a sort of rough patch._

_Lex is on vacation, so the way that I know is from talking to Lionel.  Lionel seemed more unwilling to discuss his son than usual.  There weren’t just the usual taciturn feelings toward his son. There was anger, pure and unadulterated.  Sadly, I was unable to get Lionel to shed some light on the matter.  Perhaps, I should just stay out of it…unless it affects Lex’s relationship with my son._

_Where do I begin with Clark?  The boy is happy, perhaps uncharacteristically so.  His friendship with Chloe has quickly blossomed into a splendid romance, or at least as splendid as a teenage romance can be.  I wish I could say that I didn’t see it coming.  Even before they decided to bring their relationship to a whole new level, they have long since developed this sense of closeness.  Sometimes Chloe is the one person that can put a smile on Clark’s face and him her._

_The fact that they are now dating has led to more awkward encounters.  I’m starting to lose count how many times I or Laura have accidentally walked in on the two of them kissing.  Once, I even walked in on Clark and Chloe on the couch in the loft.  Both of them were shirtless.  If Chloe had been topless, Clark would have had some angry words not just from me, but from Gabe as well._

_How do you give the sex talk to somebody whose anatomy isn’t the same as a human’s?  Clark tells me that he’s starting to hear a voice coming from his spaceship.  He says he doesn’t know what it’s saying yet, but whatever it is, I have a strong feeling that it will be instructional for Clark.  I can teach my son all the lessons I can about being a person, but not I, not even someone as brilliant as Virgil, can teach him everything about what he is._

_I can’t stress how much I hate using the word “what” when talking about Clark.  In too many ways he’s a “who” but even I can’t deny there is also a strong “what” in regards to him.  Who is he?  He’s my son, he’s the boy my wife and I found and chose to raise as our own.  He’s the boy that my late son, Oliver, adored and proudly called his brother, even if they fought from time to time like normal brothers.  He’s the boy that longs to help people in any way he can and wishes he didn’t have to hide all the ways that he can.  He’s the person someone like Chloe Sullivan has called her hero on more than one occasion._

_Now what is he?  He’s certainly not what I expected when I was racing Lionel to—these words now taste like poison—get my hands on him first.  He’s a boy who came from the stars.  He looks, walks, and talks like a human, yet he’s not.  In so many ways, he’s so much more.  Did I ever expect to find something that looked “alien”?  Like E.T.?  Maybe even one of the aliens from_ War of the Worlds _?  Now I don’t even remember._

_As much as I would like to join my wife and son on this Fourth of July celebration, some recent activity has me thinking way too hard._

_I’m not sure if it’s something that I want my family to know just yet, if ever.  Some gentleman who works for Lionel and I’s joint company has brought up a very radical idea.  It’s actually an idea that he’s already done some extensive research on.  He’s been researching the process of cloning.  In fact, he’s managed to clone his own daughter.  A bit of a sad story, really.  The girl died long ago and left a father wishing he could have her back.  At the moment, the clone is just an embryo growing inside a cow._

_The project is a controversial one to say the least.  It’s fascinating, but there just seems to be something insanely wrong about playing God.  Look how well it turned out for Viktor Frankenstein—not the movie with Boris Karloff, but the man from Mary Shelley’s novel.  To intensify my consideration of the project, Lionel cleverly suggested that I might even be able to have my Oliver back._

_That led to the first time I ever punched Lionel Luthor.  I thought he would seek retribution, maybe even dissolve our already tense partnership.  No, he just laughed and mocked that my emotions make me a weak businessman.  Maybe they do, but I also like to feel that my family inspires me.  And I unashamedly dote upon them._

_The idea of having Oliver back…Lionel sure hit me in the bull’s eye with that one.  It’s appealing.  At what cost?  And what is the point?  It would feel like replacing a piece of furniture after the last one broke.  Ollie was no piece of furniture.  He was—is—irreplaceable.  If we had had a beloved cat or dog, would it feel right replacing them with a clone?  No, I would seek another pet and build new memories, find a new place in my heart for that new pet.  Having a clone of my son around, for me, would be like walking around the house with a life-size cardboard cutout of my son._

_I’m opting to shut down the project.  I’m more worried about how the scientist will react than how Lionel will react._

 

It’s almost an hour before Clark realizes that he has flown around the world three times already.  He even stopped briefly to pick up some ice cream from Moscow.  He’s not fluent, but he’s picked up some Russian over the years.  At least he knows enough to have a conversation with someone. 

Should he have expected a different reaction from Lois?  Considering the short amount of time that they have known each other, Clark didn’t think that it would be the best reaction, but he certainly wasn’t expecting _that_ kind of reaction.  Worse yet, he’s not saddened by it, not in the slightest.  He’s angry about it. 

It’s left him fuming.  In fact, while he’s been flying around he overheard a rape incident.  The victim couldn’t have been older than ten.  Clark had to stop himself from squeezing the rapist’s head to death, or ripping his member right off with his bare hands and forcing him to eat it.  Clark doesn’t want to use fear as a weapon, but nor does he have any sympathy for rapists and child molesters. 

When Clark finally came to a stop on top of the water tower in Smallville, he just sat on top of it for several minutes.  Why is he so angry?  Looking back, if Chloe had reacted negatively to his reveal, it wouldn’t have just saddened him; it would have broken his heart. 

Tess figured his secret out all on her own.  She wasn’t awed or upset, rather she seemed intrigued.  It’s like Tess actually had good feelings about what he’s capable of, but in more of a platonic way that formed a deeper friendship with his brother’s girlfriend.

Lois just freaked out.  Can he really blame her?  Ever since they came into each other’s lives, her life has to have become a whirlwind of weirdness.  She didn’t spend have her childhood with that weirdness as Chloe had.  It didn’t make her a lesser person, just inexperienced. 

Clark got tearful, yes, but watching her walk away just made him angry.  He’s not just angry that she walked away.  It’s made him angry with himself.  He wasn’t ready to reveal his secret to her, yet in his sloppiness, she found out anyway.

However, her requesting to take a break is starting to give him an opportunity to really evaluate their relationship.  True to her words, it started out as a date to relieve the awkward tension left over by the witch incident on Chloe’s birthday.

It feels like the circumstances were right and they were just thrust together without either of them really stopping to question why they wanted to date each other in the first place.  It’s something that he plans on spending some time trying to figure out.  He also would like to ask himself why he’s starting to feel like he felt a sense of “normalcy” around Lois.  He doesn’t want to feel normal.  He just wants to be himself. 

Chloe might have looked at him as some heaven-descended angel…for maybe an hour or so.  They knew each other for way longer and from what he could see everything that was peculiar about him, all her suspicions were confirmed and everything sort of snapped into place.  If she treated him any different, it was just an intensified sense of pushing him towards his fullest potential.

She called him amazing. 

He needs to stop.  He can’t expect that from Lois, not when she hasn’t known him for all that long.  Actually, what he could use right now is sleep.  It is spring break and he has finished his homework.  Studying can wait until tomorrow.

He rises from his sitting position and flies towards home.  He might have eaten that ice cream too fast.  Another snack sure won’t hurt.

When he reaches his house, he sees some lights are still on.  Oliver’s probably studying his brains out as he has been for months now.  Clark has faith that his brother will make a great businessman.  He lands on the porch with a faint _thud_ and opens the door.  As he does, he hears some rustling of paper.  It sounds like his entrance startled Oliver. 

Clark smiles to himself as he closes and locks the door behind him.  He walks a few steps forward and sees Oliver in the dining room.  It’s what Oliver’s doing that puts a frown on his face.

“Oliver is everything okay?” he asks, concerned.

“Yeah, Bluesy, everything’s fine,” replies Oliver as he hastily gathers up the papers he had strewn all over the table.  “I didn’t expect you home tonight.”  Clark almost smirks at the coy note of his voice if it weren’t for the underlying nervousness.  He’s also glad that his brother didn’t ask him how his evening went.  He’s in no mood to talk about it, nor share the fact that Lois Lane now knows his secret.  Oliver, Diana, and Chloe would all be scrutinizing her to make certain she’s trustworthy.  Truth be told, even he needs to believe she won’t share his secret.

“Ollie is there something I should know about?” asks Clark, growing suspicious.

“No, not at all,” replies Oliver in a measured tone.  It sounds too rehearsed.  “I’m just cleaning up this mess.  You remember how Mom and Dad always hated it when I used ‘the table we eat dinner on’ as a workspace for my homework.”

Clark smiles at the memories.  “Yes, I remember, but why are you _this_ nervous if you are just studying for business school at the end of the summer?”  Rather than wait for an answer, he dashes at superspeed and grabs one of the papers before Oliver can grasp it. 

“Hey, Clark, what have I told you about doing that?” snaps Oliver.  “Give that back!”

Clark walks into the foyer and floats off the ground, high enough that Oliver can’t reach him.  He ignores Oliver as he shouts for him to come back down, calling him wildly immature.  Clark thinks it would be immature if he were taunting Oliver with the paper.  He just wants to scan it without Oliver interrupting him. 

“What’s Level 33.1?” asks Clark.

“Clark…”

“I swear to God, Oliver if you don’t answer me, I will set this and all those papers you are clutching on fire!”

“It’s what Dad was investigating when he died!” screams Oliver.

Clark pauses and just stares down at his brother.  For the first time in months, he doesn’t look at all like somebody hardened by five years’ worth of struggling to survive, not to mention extensive dental treatment when he came home.  Clark still considers his brother lucky that he still has all his teeth.  He looks like the brother who left him behind, the brother who shares his sense of loss. 

“Will you please come down now?” asks Oliver, softly.

Clark descends and lands softly on his feet. 

“How do you know that Dad was looking into all this?” he asks. 

“Because the night of my ‘coming back to life’ party, I snuck out and broke into Dad’s old office,” replies Oliver.  “I got into his safe and I found his diary as well as a letter inside it.”

“Where’s the letter?” asks Clark. 

“I’ll let you read it later, but all you need to know at the moment is that he loved us and he got himself mixed up with some bad business,” explains Oliver, growing louder with each word as Clark tries to protest.  “He discovered some bad stuff and tried to get himself out.  Whatever it was, it must have been bad enough that someone wanted him dead.”

“And do you have any idea who it might have been?” asks Clark.

Oliver shrugs.  “My first guess has been the Luthors, but I have no evidence.  Plus, Aunt Di made me promise to leave them alone.”

Clark narrows his eyes.  “Are you telling me that you _and_ Aunt Di have been looking into all this and neither of you bothered to tell me?”

His brother backs up a few steps.  “Now Clark, before you fry me like a marshmallow, let me tell you that I _wanted_ to let you in on this.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“Because Aunt Di made me promise not to!” shouts Oliver, slamming the stack of papers down on the ground, sending them flying everywhere.  “She wanted you to focus on your education without any major distractions!”

“But these are our _parents_ ,” protests Clark angrily.

“Whoopee, you think I didn’t know that?” demands Oliver sarcastically.  “You know that I hate keeping secrets from you.  After five years of wishing I could get back to my life, the last thing I want is there to be secrets between us.”

“I’ve kept my end of that,” Clark points out defiantly. 

“I know you have, and I love you for that.” 

Both of them are panting hard as they stare each other down.  Clark wonders if his brother wishes he could still look _down_ at him.  These days, they are eye to eye.  Maybe Clark is being too hard on his brother.  He sighs and bends down to start picking up the papers. 

“What have you been able to find out so far?” he asks conversationally. 

“Not much,” Oliver grumbles as he joins his brother.  “If it weren’t for Dad talking about it all the time in many of his later entries, I’d say that it didn’t exist.  I could find more information about Area 51 than this.  Some of Dad’s entries say that he kept a ledger of transactions dealing with 33.1, but I haven’t been able to find them.  Aunt Di has been trying to use her resources to find them.”

“And is Tess in on any of this?” asks Clark.

“I hate to admit it, but no,” confesses Oliver.

“She might be a considerable help,” Clark suggests. 

Oliver rolls his eyes.  “Okay, fine, I’ll see about telling her about all this.  She will be pissed, but…”

“I think she will understand, Ollie,” promises Clark.  Suddenly, out of nowhere, he starts to hear a loud screeching in his ears.  He doubles over, clutching his ears.  Distantly, he hears his brother asks what’s wrong.  It’s the same screeching that led him to the prison when he switched bodies with Lionel Luthor.  This is much, _much_ closer though.

He rushes out of his brother’s comforting hands and finds himself heading upstairs…towards his brother’s bedroom.  He looks under his brother’s bed of all places and finds a lead box.  The screeching subsides and he opens the box. 

“Clark, Clark what’s the matter…?” asks Oliver, rushing towards the bedroom.  Clark hears his brother stiffen. 

“How long have you had this?” asks Clark quietly, holding up what it unmistakably a stone of power, this one with the figure eight symbol on it. 

“It was in the safe with Dad’s diary,” replies Oliver as quietly.

“And you kept this secret too?”

Oliver closes the distance between them and steps in front of his younger brother.  “I know what that stone is for, Clark.  You know I do.  I just...I just…”

“Just what, Oliver?” Clark presses.

“I just got you back last summer and I didn’t want to see you leave again so soon!” screams Oliver, tears beading in his eyes.

Clark loses all angry pretenses as he registers the hurt and loneliness in his brother’s eyes.  “Do you seriously think, that if you had given me this stone, that I would have left immediately?” he asks quietly.  “You think I wouldn’t have lingered for a while?  Not just to say my goodbyes to everyone I care about, but so that you didn’t feel like you were going to go another stint without seeing me after so little time had passed?”

Through his tears, Oliver averts his eyes, suddenly looking embarrassed.  Clark sets down the stone and grips his brother’s shoulders.  “You’re my brother, Oliver Queen.  Nothing, not even the douchebag of an A.I. that is my biological father is going to change that.  Now, I’m going to take this stone, unite it with the other ones and see what happens.  Whatever happens, I am going to make Jor-El agree to allow me at least until after my graduation before I depart for training.”

Oliver frowns.  “You’re not even going to give yourself a few weeks to have a vacation?”

“Jor-El’s a douchebag, remember?  I’ll probably only be able to get until after my graduation before he deals some sort of punishment for not obeying him.”

Oliver shakes his head.  “Your dad really is a douchebag!” 

They both laugh.

“Wish me luck?” asks Clark. 

In answer, Oliver hugs him tightly.  “Do what you need, brother.”

When they break their embrace, Clark leaves for the caves before things grow too hard.  He keeps his fingers crossed the whole way as the echoes of _I love you’s_ from everyone he cares about echo through his mind.  Strangely enough, Lois isn’t one of them.  They hadn’t even exchanged those words yet.

 

***

 

“Are you sure this was a wise idea, Mr. Luthor?”

Lex glances up at his subordinate.  “I paid you to set the children’s center on fire, not to ask questions.  Take your payment and leave…before I consider handing you over to the police.”

The arsonist scoffs and takes the briefcase atop Lex’s glass desk.  Lex then watches as he’s led out by a couple of his security guards. 

“Close the door on your way out, gentlemen,” he requests.  Without a word, the security guards close the doors. 

Left alone in his office atop LuthorCorp Plaza, Lex takes the flash drive with the pictures on it and plugs it into his computer.  As the icon shows up, he clicks on the file and waits for the photos to show up.

Lex studies the screen in front of him.  The shots are expertly taken.  They depict the doors of the children’s center being _punched_ right off their hinges.  Of course, he felt bad about endangering a bunch of parentless, underprivileged children, but it was a necessary evil to see what would happen. 

What did happen is astonishing.  As Lex clicks through the slideshow, a figure—no a blur of blue—flies out of the building.  That same blur disappears from sight, but soon reappears.  The pictures have moved to an alley.  By the photography, Lex can tell the shots were taken from a considerable distance with the help of a telescopic lens.

What he sees next is stranger indeed.  The figure descends to the ground.  That’s the end of that slide.  The next file is actually an audio file from a little microphone that was hidden in that same alley. 

Lex clicks on it and presses play.  The things he hears, flight, strength, heat vision, x-ray vision, speed, powerful breath…Lex links his fingers and leans back in his chair. 

“I always knew there was something special about you, Clark Queen.”


	44. Chapter Forty-Three

_August 24 th, 2002,_

_I have been banished to the couch.  There are two guest bedrooms and Oliver’s old room (we can’t bring ourselves to strip it down into a guest bedroom) yet, Laura was very clear.  I sleep on the couch.  The couches are comfortable, but sleeping on one of them for the plain reason being that my wife forced me to, makes it feel like a walk of shame.  Rather, in this case, “sleep of shame” would be way more accurate._

_The reason being is something that will be very embarrassing for a long time before it becomes something to laugh about, as Clark reassures me.  Jonathan and I almost killed Lex Luthor!  Jonathan had his shotgun, I had my Beretta.  Together, we tried to kill poor Lex.  We chased him into his office.  I think we would have killed him if it weren’t for Clark’s interference._

_It was a few hours before Jonathan and I were exchanging glances and feeling incredibly stupid.  I think it’s a little unfair for our wives to be giving us the cold shoulder.  We are both victims of woman who could put men in a haze of pheromones, for crying out loud!_

_I should probably explain.  Plus, this nasty heat wave is still putting me on edge.  Small town like this, it’s economical to not run the air conditioning as much, even if for someone like me, the bill is no problem._

_Clark has started his sophomore year and he and his friends were introduced to a new teacher by the name of Desiree Atkins their first day back.  A voluptuous woman to say the least, I’m sure that the fact she was starting off their health class with teaching sexual education made it all the more tense.  Not to say that I have a wandering eye, but the dress that woman wore, even if her sole excuse would have been the miserable heat, was a bit inappropriate for a teacher to be wearing.  She’s supposed to be there to teach, not to cause an uncomfortable tightness in teenage boys’ pants._

_Clark and Chloe have been going on quite steady this past summer, but Clark did come under fire—if not literally—from Chloe this week.  Clark has shown himself to be a faithful boyfriend, but even he isn’t immune to the charms of a beautiful, yet older woman.  During one of their classes, Clark must have had what amounts to a premature orgasm._

_“I don’t know what happened.  One minute, I’m staring at Ms. Atkins, the next the projector screen was on fire.”_

_\--Clark’s explanation.  And the powers don’t stop coming.  Clark has heat vision and he almost roasted his teacher, who would later turn out to be Lex’s fiancée._

_Talk about a very short, very unexpected and surprising courtship.  Lex goes out of town for a few weeks and he comes home with a mysterious woman.  Lex can be a ladies man, so I’ve witnessed, but I never thought of him actually tying the knot.  At least not that soon._

_Clark wondered out loud what Oliver might think if he were here.  That’s a really good question.  What would Oliver think?  He and Lex Luthor never had an easy relationship.  For that matter, I still wonder what Ollie would have thought of Clark’s friendship with Lex.  Oliver never got in the way of Clark making friends—he wasn’t his father—but he was always fiercely protective of him._

_I can just picture Ollie sitting in the corner somewhere, with the bow Diana gave him in his lap, just daring Lex to make a mistake.  One nasty habit of Oliver’s that I never grew to tolerate was his habit of picking his teeth with one of his arrows._

_So anyway, there was a big, albeit impromptu, wedding at the Luthor Mansion.  I attended with my family, Clark’s friends, and Martha Kent.  For such short notice, Martha made a very beautiful wedding cake.  I don’t know about anyone else, but I was sure ready to jump into the pool.  It was a hundred degrees out and we were wearing tuxes and gowns._

_I did run into Lionel during the wedding.  We spoke to each other.  In what ended up being one of our friendlier moments, we agreed that everything about this new development stank.  Nothing about it felt right.  We wanted to take a closer look at Lex’s new wife._

_Funnily enough, Clark and Chloe were doing their own investigation._

_It’s something that I don’t think about much, but it is very hard being friends with both Lionel Luthor and Jonathan Kent.  My relationship with Jonathan has probably become one of the best I’ve ever had in my adult years.  My relationship with Lionel is much more fragile.  Lionel is more or less a business partner of circumstance rather than actual kinship._

_Also, to make things more complicated for me, Jonathan and Lionel hate each other.  Rather, Jonathan hates Lionel.  Other than tricking Jonathan into making Pete Ross’s father give up his esteemed creamed corn factory, in recent years, Lionel has unashamedly shown desire for Martha.  Jonathan Kent is my best friend.  If I feel that Lionel is doing anything to get between Jonathan and Martha (not that he would succeed).  I do feel that it’s more to simply annoy Jonathan._

_I wouldn’t be surprised if Jonathan went_ Texas Chainsaw Massacre _on Lionel.  Oh that puts a morbidly entertaining image in my head.  Jonathan Kent chasing Lionel Luthor through a cornfield with a chainsaw is quite funny to me._

_Long story short, Desiree Atkins is a meteor freak that was caught in the throes of ecstasy when the meteor shower hit.  I still don’t understand the logic of meteor powers, but she can spread pheromones through just her breath.  In the years passed, she has become something of a black widow.  She doesn’t get her hands dirty, though.  She puts other men in a haze and has them kill her husbands and she reaps the benefits.  She tried to do it again through Clark._

_It didn’t work.  Then she came to me and Jonathan._

_Now the two of us are suffering the consequences.  This sounds so immature, but I’m actually jealous of Clark at the moment.  Desiree (whose marriage to Lex is being annulled) tried to seduce Clark, yet his girlfriend isn’t upset with him.  Would it have been different if he had been seduced?_

_It seems like nothing can pull Clark and Chloe apart.  I’m happy for him.  Right now I’m just unhappy that I’m sleeping on a couch._

Clark flies to the Kawatche caves in ten seconds flat.  One power that he does not have is the ability to see through the dark.  It’s dark out and in the absence of a flashlight he relies on the moonlight.  Even through the semi-darkness, he finds his way to the door within the caves.  He makes it to the caves and stops in front of it.  

It takes him about a minute to realize that he doesn’t have the octagonal key.  He gave it to Chloe for safekeeping when they were still…more together than they are now.  He never asked for it back.  It’s becoming another one of the harsh callbacks that have been flooding his mind since his unplanned reveal to Lois. 

The more he thinks about it, the more Lois’ reaction doesn’t seem all that irrational.  She hasn’t known him for very long.  This has been a tumultuous year for her and now he’s wishing there was something he could do to alleviate that.  The simple fact that he is what he is probably makes that close to impossible.  It also doesn’t help that she wanted to take a break. 

 _Don’t touch me_.  Those words just won’t stop reverberating through his head.  He doesn’t want to, but all he keeps thinking about his—girlfriend?—and best friend.  He can’t stop comparing them.  It was one thing when Lois convinced him to date her and they were trying to find a way to break the awkward tension between them.

Lois knows his most important secret and…all he can think is old habits die hard.  And now he’s remembering the fact that his octagonal key is with Chloe.  She was on a date of her own, he knew, when she called him and told him the children’s center was on fire.  He gets out his cellphone and floats upward to an area where he has a better signal. 

He’s doubtful that Chloe will answer.  Still, it doesn’t hurt to try.  He dials her number and waits for the phone to pick up.  She answers on the third ring. 

“Clark, can you call me at another time?” she asks, sounding breathless. 

Clark rolls his eyes.  It isn’t hard to guess what’s going on.  “Sorry, Chloe, I just…I need the octagonal key.” 

“Trixie stop,” she says, her voice somewhat muffled as if she was trying to block the microphone.  “Clark, what’s the matter?”

She knows him too well.  “Rough night,” he replies. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” the concern in her voice makes his heart sing precious tunes.  It’s a great feeling after how his evening has gone down. 

“I do,” replies Clark truthfully.  “Just not over the phone.”

“I’ll tell you what, Clark,” Chloe begins enthusiastically.  “How about I come meet you and I’ll give you the octagonal key for the price of telling me what’s on your mind?” 

He doesn’t want to interrupt her time with her girlfriend—who weirdly enough first went after Lois.  “Chloe, you don’t have to…”

“I insist, Clark,” Chloe cuts him off firmly.  “Now where are you?”

“Kawatche caves,” Clark replies simply. 

“I’ll be there in twenty.”  The phone disconnects.  Clark just put an end to his best friend’s date, which sounded like was become a lot steamier.  Clark descends from his floating position and sits on a ledge with his back against the cave wall.  He counts the minutes until his best friend arrives.

He wonders what Lois is doing right now.  Is she going through some sort of self-reflection as he is?  Is she wondering how the hell he is what he is?  Is she pissed off for him not telling her sooner?  Is she frightened?  Is she pissed off with Chloe for not telling her all that she was getting herself into by dating him? 

Beyond the questions running through his head, he’s letting a very strange truth sink in:  he is dating his ex’s cousin and his ex is dating a girl who showed romantic interest in Lois.  What would his parents have to say about that? 

He can just picture them giving each other an awkward glance, taking a moment or two to discuss it through overlapping mutters, before acknowledging how complicated it is.  They also would have encouraged him to continue to do what he thinks is right. 

Clark doesn’t know what is right anymore.  Lois has found out his secret and he was nowhere near ready to tell her.  Really, he wasn’t all that ready when he told Chloe a couple of years ago, but Chloe knew him longer.  They have shared half their childhood together and so they both knew each other’s peculiarities before they knew the full story.  Clark knows that Chloe heals a lot quicker than a normal human being.

He remembers finding out like it was yesterday.  Chloe told him and was near hysterical about it.  She knew that he wouldn’t look at her differently, but her biggest fear was losing her mind like so many other meteor freaks have.  Rhetorically, he asked her what she could possibly do that was harmful with her meteor power.  She could start harming herself, but he would know if she had gotten into that habit.  She hasn’t.

Then there’s Lois.  He feels like they have been growing steadily closer, but there are still some very large blank spots about her that he doesn’t know about.  She refuses to talk about her family and when she does, she’s very brief about it.  He is the alien with an overload of powers and yet he’s the open book compared to Lois.  He doesn’t hold it against her.  She obviously has a lot of tension in her life and she’s not comfortable sharing much of it. 

It might help to talk about it, but how does he say that to her without sounding like a therapist? 

Two incredible women in his life and he wishes that things were simpler.  What if they weren’t cousins?  What if they weren’t even previously acquainted before he met Lois?  Would it have made things easier?   Would he be mentally comparing them as he is now if that were the case?  It would probably be so, but with fewer variables.

Soon, he hears the sound of a car approaching.  He stays on his spot on the ledge.  A few minutes later, he sees the beam of a flashlight. 

“Clark?” Chloe’s voice calls out.

“I’m here, Chloe,” Clark calls back.  Soon enough, he sees Chloe.  When she lowers the flashlight enough for him to get a clearer view of her, he can tell that she had just gotten out of a bed.  Perhaps it wasn’t even a bed.

“Your hair is tangled,” he teases. 

“And you smell like an inferno,” Chloe fires back.  “May I join you?”

Clark chuckles softly and pats the space beside him on the ledge.  Chloe raised her arms and he grabs her hands, helping her up.  Now that they are sitting together, they let out a long sigh. 

“This place is bringing back some memories,” Chloe observes thoughtfully.

Clark can’t agree more.  “Didn’t we fall asleep in here once or twice?”

“Yeah, in that corner,” she points to a space several feet away.  “We rolled off our sleeping bags and I woke up with my head on your chest.”

“Your dad went nuts,” Clark laughs.

Chloe shrugs.  “He didn’t know where I was.  What was I supposed to tell him—that I slept with my boyfriend _in a cave_?  That his precious daughter came within fifty feet of being arrested for public indecency? 

“This is hardly a ‘public’ place,” Clark mutters.

“It’s not privately owned either, genius,” and they are at it again.

“Okay, how about when we got topless in the Talon?”

“Clark, you know I don’t remember that despite your vivid description.”

“Still a good memory.”

“Right up until your dad smacked you in the head with lump of kryptonite.”

Clark grimaces.  “Yeah, that hurt.”

Chloe shifts a little so that she’s facing him more directly.  “Look, Clark as much as I enjoy this trip down memory lane, there’s something on your mind.  What’s going on?  Did something happen?  And I thought that you’d be with Lois.”

“If you’re implying what I think you’re implying, I’ve told you before, I wasn’t going to sleep with Lois without her knowing my secret,” Clark reminds her more sharply than he meant to.  He sighs and puts his face in his lap.  “Well, she does know my secret and now I’m not even sure if she likes idea of sleeping with me.”

Chloe is silent for what feels like forever.  “How did she find out?” she eventually asks quietly as she lays a comforting hand on Clark’s back. 

“By accident,” replies Clark simply.  “When I came out of the fire, my clothes were a mess.  I sped to the nearest department store and bought a new suit identical to the one I was wearing.  I changed into it so that I didn’t look like I came out of a fire.”

“You smell like you came out of a fire,” Chloe reminds him bluntly.

“Thanks, Miss ‘I-smell-like-I-was-having-sex-with-a-girl-who-used-Bath and Bodyworks-brand-perfume,” Clark fires back.  Chloe blushes furiously.

“So anyway, I return to the restaurant, making sure I stay out of sight and I find out Lois is waiting for me,” Clark continues.  “She could tell I changed my clothes.  She saw me fly and made me tell her everything else.  Then she went into a tirade, listing off all the weird things that have happened to her since being introduced to Smallville, including dating her cousin’s ex.  She told me that until she can figure out what this means for us, she needs a break.  She told me not to touch her.  Way to make me feel poisonous,” he adds miserably.

Having finished his explanation, he finally notices the tears that have broken loose.  Chloe rubs his back affectionately and he finds himself flexing his muscles to her touch like a cat arching his back. 

“I’m sorry, Clark,” she whispers. 

Clark shrugs.  “Don’t be; Lois hasn’t known me all that long and she just got this bombshell dropped on her.”

“I paced for hours when you told me your secret.”

Clark lifts his head and looks her straight in the eye.  “What?  But you…”

“Yes I told you that I always knew there was something special about you, but that doesn’t mean that I wasn’t as freaked out as I was awed,” she explains.  “I was giddy.  My mind was racing as I thought of all the things it could mean.  It excited me and it frightened me.  It was like going onto a rollercoaster that you are really excited for, but also very terrified of.  I could tell how much it weighed you down and I felt special that you told me and I’ve proved to you so many times that you could trust me with your secret, but there were moments when I was a little freaked out.”

Clark listens to every word she says to him, letting them sink in.  “Well, I always thought that you would be a little freaked out.  You know _I’ve_ been freaked out as each of my new powers developed.”

“And I haven’t looked at you differently once,” Chloe reminds him proudly.  “Give Lois some time; she will come around.”

“And if she doesn’t?” Clark challenges cynically. 

“Then it’s her loss.”

There’s something Clark really wants to ask her, something that he’s wanted to ask her for months, but he’s not sure he’s ready yet.  Plus, he doesn’t want her mood to change.  Not when her mere presence has helped him more than he could have asked for. 

“Oh, and um, here’s the octagonal key,” says Chloe, fishing in her purse for a minute before taking his hand and placing the key in it.  “I believe in you, Clark.  Sometimes I’d like to kick your ass if it meant getting you to believe in yourself.”

“You have kicked my ass—several times,” Clark reminds her wryly.  Yes, and with the help of blue kryptonite whenever they sparred while he taught her how to fight. 

“Well, don’t give me a good reason to do it again,” Chloe warns him sweetly.  “Now go.”

“I’ll remember to give this key back to you,” Clark promises as she gets up to leave. 

“Don’t bother; it’s yours,” she calls back as she walks away.  She will still end up finding it in possession, Clark promises himself. 

Getting up from the ledge himself, he walks over to the doorway into the inner chamber.  He presses the key to the cutout and immediately the symbols light up and begin to rotate.  The door parts and he steps in.  Therein stands the table with the other two stones.  He fishes the final stone out of his pocket and regards it thoughtfully.

“Here goes nothing,” he says and presses it into its place.  Together, the stones light up.  The light is so bright that Clark is sure it could blind a normal person.  And he’s moving.  He’s being transported and he has no idea where.    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure that there are some mixed feelings about this chapter, but given everything that's going on that this point, I feel it's justified. 
> 
> I'm sure I don't need to remind everyone what will happen next. Though as this is Clark Queen, not Clark Kent, things will definitely be different.


	45. Chapter Forty-Four

_October 1 st, 2002_

_Things are getting pretty tense with Clark’s friendships.  Pete Ross now knows Clark’s secret.  This one Clark did not plan._

_Clark was having a normal afternoon.  He was working for the Kents and Pete came over.  Clark has always been very good about not letting his friends distract him from his chores.  However, like anyone, sometimes he can get a little sidetracked.  Now that Clark’s best friend is now his girlfriend, there has been a significant increase in said distractions._

_Jonathan has shared with me some…interesting stories of what he’s witnessed.  Thankfully, none of those stories involved any missing clothes.  I can try my best to give Clark the sex talk, but he isn’t exactly human.  I don’t know why.  For as long as Clark has been in our lives, the word “alien” just seems so vulgar.  Even Oliver avoided the word if he could help it._

_So anyway, Pete goes to the Kents while Clark is working, hoping to have a little fun.  There’s nothing wrong with taking a five or ten minute break in between duties.  It takes a considerably longer time, but even Clark is capable of wearing himself out.  Jonathan and Martha are kind people; they don’t take Clark’s stamina for granted._

_Pete came at a bad time.  Clark was busy helping Jonathan with fixing the barn.  The Kent farm wasn’t harmed much in the tornado this past May, but Jonathan is a little paranoid and he’s been scrutinizing his whole property, searching for any weak spots that can be fixed.  We all thought that it was a bit obsessive, but he wanted to remodel the staircase leading up to the loft in the barn._

_Clark was more than willing to help.  Jonathan and Clark were halfway finished with the project.  All they needed to do was keep things in place while Jonathan put in the final bolts.  I don’t know all that happened.  Everyone said that everything happened so fast.  Pete wasn’t staring where he should have been.  He knocked something over and everything would have come crashing down on him, seriously injuring him, but Clark got him out of the way.  More specifically, he sped him and Jonathan several feet away from the barn._

_Of course, Jonathan was thankful.  Pete however, was freaked out to say the least.  It took him all of ten seconds to realize what happened.  Clark didn’t get the chance to fully reveal all of his abilities.  Pete’s reception of Clark’s abilities, or rather just the speed he witnessed, couldn’t have been further from Chloe’s much more enthusiastic reaction.  In fact, I believe, once Pete realized Chloe knew before he did, it only infuriated him further._

_Poor Clark he got a taste of what it’s like to be seen as a freak from someone so close.  In the weeks passed, Pete has calmed down a bit, but I don’t think his and Clark’s friendship will be the same._

_There’s something else that is troubling me.  There’s a significant amount of green and red meteor rock—or kryptonite as we’ve come to call it—missing from my stores.  I’ve talked to the people who work for me.  They had no idea that any kryptonite was stolen.  With the help of some of my people we worked our way through anyone who might have had access to the stores anywhere in the country.  Eventually somebody confessed to having sold a quarter-million dollars’ worth of the meteor rocks._

_Finance is not my forte, so I don’t know how the price of meteor rocks could be calculated.  It didn’t matter; the meteor rocks were sold to the highest bidder.  This now ex-employee would not give up a name.  He had no name to provide, or so he claimed._

_In one of my rare moments of rage, I blacklisted the man.  He will be lucky if he ever finds another job anywhere.  Laura will give me an earful for being so harsh, but I was just so angry.  I’m also worried.  What’s going to be done with this missing kryptonite?  Where will it end up?_

_On top of all that, I’m growing increasingly suspicious of Lionel.  He’s getting quite a few late-night phone calls in his office.  I’m starting to feel that our already delicate level of trust is coming to an end.  I don’t know if he feels the same or not, but that’s how I feel._

_What am I going to tell Laura?_  
  


It’s cold.  Everything is white.  The air fills Clark’s lungs with a chill that would have a normal person suffering the effects of exposure.  As his eyes clear, he indeed finds himself in a snowy wasteland.  By the position of the moon, and the flare of lights in the sky, which are undeniably the northern lights, he is somewhere far north.  He even wonders if he is directly at the North Pole.

“I guess Santa doesn’t live here after all,” Clark mutters.  He looks down at the object in his hand.  The conjoined stones have formed some sort of clear crystal.  He’s no jeweler, but he knows enough that it’s not diamond.  Not knowing what else to do with it, he reaches back and throws it as hard as he can. 

When it lands, the most spectacular thing happens.  Clark feels the ground rumble beneath him and he worries the ice will give way.  He’s not in the mood for a swim.  He doesn’t have to worry about the cold, but it would turn this strip into a colossal waste of his time.  It is then that he sees what’s happening. 

Columns of what may be ice or crystal shoot out of the ground in crisscrossing directions.  At the same time, he sees ice and snow rise out of the ground.  There’s so much going on that Clark doesn’t know where to look, except watch everything happen all at once.  The structure forming is unlike anything Clark had ever seen.  He’s seen a few very crazy, outlandish designs from a few architects, but nothing like this. 

When it seems to all have finally stopped, Clark observes the structure.  It reminds him somewhat the wooden arrangement of a tipi…or maybe a gigantic house of cards made of crystal spikes?    

“And I would have been satisfied with a forty-story igloo,” mutters Clark.  With a deep sigh, he takes his time approaching the structure.  With each footstep, the structure only appears to be larger, more menacing.  The fact that this is likely based off of Kryptonian architecture…Clark wonders what the rest of the planet he grew up on looked like. 

There are times when he would have liked to know more about the planet he came from, perhaps even cry for those who loved him, but it’s difficult to mourn something that he has no memory of.  Earth is his home.  Despite Jor-El’s past attempts to remind him that while he walks among humans that he is no human, this planet is his home and the people in it are his people.  Plus, Jor-El is an artificial intelligence, a bodiless memory of a dead man.  All he has for a biological father is a cold, unfeeling AI that hasn’t shown any ability to learn anything new. 

By now, Clark is sure he has found the entrance into the colossal structure of ice and crystal.  Clark isn’t eager to hear the monotonous tones of Jor-El’s voice, but he can’t deny the sheer brilliance of everything around him.

The crystals remind him of quartz, diamond, and crystalized ice, reminding Clark of some of the crystal caves in the world.  Clark never had the privilege of visiting one of those caves.  Plus, these crystals have too much of a designed look to them to have been formed by the forces of nature and running water.  They crystals themselves seem to give off a soft glow, providing the place with ample light. 

“This place could use some more furniture,” Clark says thoughtfully.  “And if I’m going to be up in the north, maybe I’ll find a polar bear and keep it as a pet.”  It might not take long for him to show that polar bear who is boss, but then again, he doesn’t want to see such a creature become domesticated.  They have enough issues thanks to melting ice caps. 

For that matter, Clark hopes that this place doesn’t sink into the ocean due to melting ice.

“ _Welcome, Kal-El,_ ” booms the voice of Jor-El as Clark enters a chamber.  Within the chamber, he finds some sort of…control console?  At least that’s what his instincts are telling him as he studies the assortment of crystals protruding from the ground. 

“What is this place, Jor-El?” asks Clark. 

“ _This is your Fortress of Solitude_ ,” explains Jor-El.  “ _You have traveled far.  One journey has ended and another one is soon to begin._ ”

“Is this all from Krypton?  I thought it was destroyed.”

“ _It was_ ,” replies Jor-El shortly.  “ _But here, the geography of our planet has been replicated for your training._ ”

“ _Your_ planet,” Clark corrects him firmly.  “I might have been born on Krypton, but it is _not_ my planet.  I know there is a lot I can learn from you, but let’s get that straight.  Earth is my home.  Earth is my planet.”

“ _Earth is where you’ve been sent,_ ” Jor-El agrees coolly.  “ _It is where you were raised, but you are not of Earth, my son_.”

Clark’s nostrils flare with anger.  “Another thing Jor-El, you have not earned the right to call me ‘son.’  Nor have you earned the right for me to call you ‘father.’  Robert Queen was my father.  He’s the only man who had the right to call me son.”

“ _Kal-El..._ ”

“My name is Clark Queen!” shouts Clark. 

“ _A name given to you by your human parents_ ,” confirms Jor-El.  “ _You are still greatly affected by their passing, and now the one you call brother has come back into your life.  You mustn’t let these human attachments guide you.  You let these human-learned emotions guide you and they only distract you.  You put the fate this planet at risk.  It is your weakness.”_

Clark rolls his eyes.  “Who are you, Commander Spock?”

“ _I know nothing of such reference._ ”

“You were the one who sent me to Earth, genius!” Clark continues.  “Of course I’m going to have ‘ _human-learned emotions_ ’,” he’s sure his imitation of Jor-El is awful.  “Just like if you had sent me to any other planet, I would have learned emotions from that planet as well.  What can I expect from you?  You are nothing but the artificial intelligence of my dead biological father.  You have no emotions.  Or was it just a show of weakness on Krypton to display any sort of emotion? 

“If I was raised on Krypton, would I have been scolded when I needed a shoulder to cry on?  Would I have been called weak for growing to care about others the way I have?”  Tears sting Clark’s eyes as he feels the scar of his parents’ passing being ripped open all over again.  “Jor-El, you might be the mentor I need, but you are not my family.”  He falls to his knees and sobs.

“ _There’s something else troubling you that has nothing to do with this foolish tirade, isn’t there_?” questions Jor-El.  “ _There are women in your life.  You care about them.  They affect you greatly._ ”

Clark is sure there is a teasing note in the entity’s bodiless voice.  “I don’t want to talk about it.  So what do I have to do here?”

“ _As of right now, nothing,_ ” replies Jor-El.  “ _Upon completion of your adolescent education, you must return._ ”

“No time for a vacation?” Clark mutters dispassionately. 

“ _Do not fail me, Kal-El_ ,” Jor-El warns.  “ _Or the consequences will be grave._ ”

The voice goes silent.  Clark leaves the fortress without looking back.  How is he going to explain this to the ones he loves? 

***

Lois stares up at the ceiling of her dorm.  She went to bed as soon as she got back, but she hasn’t been able to get to sleep.  She can’t stop replaying all that she had witnessed.  Her boyfriend _flew_ for God’s sake!  That just doesn’t happen.  Then she finds out that not only that, he is really fast, really strong, can see through things, hear things from a mile away, has bulletproof skin, can shoot fire from his eyes, and blow with the force of an air hose.  That’s quite the lung capacity.  On top of his ridiculous amount of abilities, he’s a goddamn alien!

Lois could see the insecurity in his eyes.  She could tell that it is a secret that weighs heavily on him.  She might have tried to sound sympathetic, but she was too freaked out to really take a moment and try to put herself in his shoes.  Perhaps she came off a little angrier than she meant to, but it wasn’t until she got back to campus that she really took some time to reflect on what all this means.

She is angry.  She’s angry at Chloe for not telling her all that she was getting herself into.  She’s angry at Clark for not telling her his secret sooner.  She’s angry at herself for not picking up on his peculiarities sooner—she’s on her way to be an investigative journalist for crying out loud!  Finally, most upsettingly, it means that her father’s suspicious attitude of Clark Queen is completely valid. 

She hoped that there wouldn’t be anything interesting about him, that he was just another handsome rich boy who had lost his parents in a plane crash.  At one point while Lois couldn’t sleep, she opened her laptop and looked up the plane crash.  What she found was annoyingly brief.  The investigation was closed, no comment was taken.  The investigative journalist in her wants to go back to Clark and ask him about the plane crash, but that would really make her look like a heartless wretch.  It might even give him the idea that she was only with him to ask questions. 

Sadly, that’s not far off from the truth.  She started dating him because she genuinely likes the guy, but she could escape her father’s orders.  It prompted her uncontrollable curiosity.  It’s that same curiosity that she’s spent the last few months trying very hard to suppress.  It’s caused her such tension that even Clark began to notice.  Numerous times he asked if she was okay, and she told him she was fine.  She wasn’t.  Every question she asked him, she fought to make it sound like someone wanting to get to know him better, not to interview him. 

She hopes she succeeded. 

Now this bombshell has been dropped on her and her emotions are all over the place.  She tried to call Chloe, to scream or complain, she didn’t know, but Chloe didn’t answer.  She thought about calling Oliver, to ask him about Clark, but the idea of him turning hostile towards her scared her a little bit. 

She doesn’t know what this means for their relationship.  Maybe that’s why she wanted to “take a break.”  She didn’t even let him touch her as if he was poisonous.

Is he poisonous?  Does Clark Queen, being an _intergalactic traveler_ carry diseases unknown to humans that are potentially harmful?  For that matter, Lois is grateful that they haven’t had sex.  At the moment, the thought of him inside her scares her, disgusts her even. 

Clark looked like he expected her to react the way she did.  Yet he seemed sad about it at the same time.  She thinks she knows him well enough at this point to suspect that he didn’t expect her to look at him like he was godlike.  Nor does he seem to carry himself as godlike.  If anything, he seems like he would be satisfied with being regarded with anything but fear and contempt.  

From speaking to Chloe in the past, Chloe was always saying how he longs to be accepted.  Does that mean that he doesn’t wish he was human?  That he only wishes he could be what he is and not be feared and hated to the point of being lynched?

At this moment, Lois just wants to figure out if this is something that she can handle.  Can she handle dating a guy who isn’t even human and has all these powers on top of that?  Will she ever get over her guilt and self-loathing for dating her cousin’s ex?  Her life was so much simpler when she was just an angry Army brat.  Then she came to Smallville and life as she knew it just imploded.  So much has already happened to her in so little time and all she wants to do is scream. 

Clark seems like the kind of guy who would invite her to scream with him, but she’s not ready to be near him at the moment. 

Lois’ inner thoughts are interrupted by a sharp knock on the door.  “Go away!” she shouts and covers her head with a pillow.  The knocking resumes. 

Grumbling, she rises out of bed and stumbles toward the door.  She can’t say she is all that surprised by who she sees once she opens it.  “Daddy, it is five hundred hours on a Saturday morning.   Whatever you want can wait.”

“Trouble sleeping?” her father asks, not unkindly. 

“I told you to go away,” Lois repeats and she tries to close the door. 

“I don’t want to take up much of your time, Lo,” her father promises as he slips into her dorm without invitation. 

Lois scrutinizes him.  “You’re never this kind to me unless you want something.”  She’s too tired to put up any sort of sangfroid attitude.

“I know you had a date last night with Clark Queen,” her father says, ignoring her as he takes a seat on her bed.  “Tell me about it?”

“And this couldn’t wait until the afternoon?” grumbles Lois. 

Her father shrugs.  “This way you will have to whole day to yourself without me bothering you.”

She tries not to show it, but that does sound awfully appealing.  “My date with Clark was fine.  Now let me go back to bed.”

“Have you been able to find out anything new about him?” ask her father.

Lois’ face melts into a scowl.  “I’m sorry, but did Clark Queen do something, other than agreeing to date me, that have made you so suspicious of him?”

“He had a run-in with the FBI last year, did you know that?” her father challenges. 

Lois staggers a little bit.  “No, does he have a criminal record?”

“Officially no, but obviously there was something about him, something that he did that caught their attention,” her father explains.  “So, I will repeat my question, have you found out anything other than the trivial things about him that you have told me so far?”

It might be the crankiness, but Lois can’t take this anymore.  “Dad, I am tired of playing this game for you.  I might as well be a whore, selling myself to Clark Queen just so you can get answers.  I guess that makes you my pimp.  I’m done, Daddy.  If you have a problem with that then you can _kiss my ass_!”

The general scowls dangerously as he rises to his feet.  “Don’t worry, sweetheart.  I will kiss your ass, and when I do, you will learn a little more respect.  Have a good day and I hope you sleep well.”

Without another word, her father straightens up and leaves her dorm.  Lois stares at the door for several minutes as her train of thought resumes.  It brings up a startling question. 

Did her emotions just give her away?   Does her father realize that she has an elephant-sized secret right on the tip of her tongue?

“Way to go, Lo,” she mutters to herself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I imagine some are a bit thrown off by some of the thoughts going through Lois’ head, but do consider the fact that she hasn’t spent half her life being exposed to all this weirdness. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed. Next weekend I’ll be revisiting Lucifer’s and Lana’s lives.
> 
> If I ever get to it, there will be a story elaborating that whole FBI incident the general mentioned. It won’t involved Clois at all as Lois wasn’t even in Clark’s life yet, but I hope that it will be worth checking out at least. 
> 
> I also have some Clark Queen one-shots in the works. It’s just a matter of actually getting them completed.


	46. Chapter Forty-Five

_October 19 th, 2002_

_Class rings are a waste of money.  Sure, they can commemorate a certain achievement, i.e. graduation from high school, college, some sort of academy…  At the end of the day it’s just another ornament taking up space.  I still have my high school and college class rings.  I can’t remember the last time I wore them. Laura has her class rings.  She never wore them on her fingers.  Instead she wore them on a gold chain to match the golden bands that she preferred._

_Smallville High was selling class rings recently.  I didn’t need a trained eye to know that the “rubies” were counterfeit.  I against my better judgment, Clark being Clark, bought one for him and his friends._

_According to Chloe, the moment Clark put on that class ring, he immediately began acting wildly out of character.  There were love bites all over her neck and her lips were swollen.  On top of that, the principal called and told me that Clark had missed several classes. Also there was a sudden fire in the school.  I don’t need to be an expert to guess what happened.  Clark obviously can’t seem to have an orgasm with his heat vision going off._

_Chloe did smell a little smoky.  At least Clark didn’t burn her.  Gabe would have killed him.  I probably would have let him.  At the end of the day, Clark would’ve felt so ashamed he would have been moping around for weeks._

_He already is moping around._

_Well besides Clark’s impromptu make-out session with his girlfriend—in the dance room—he caused quite a bit of mayhem._

_Laura was hosting a charity event for sustainable housing in the Suicide Slums of Metropolis.  It’s a grim name that is well-earned.  Many of the living spaces are very low income and pitifully unkempt.  I have a number of colleagues who grew up in such conditions.  If people are going to be living in the only places they can afford, they should at least be allowed the luxury of something clean without bad plumbing and the possible presence of pests._

_Laura had put together a housing project, one that has proven quite lucrative.  We are all quite proud of her.  Unfortunately, it seems Clark had a few things to say that suggested otherwise.  He said some very unrepeatable things, some of which I won’t be forgetting anytime soon thanks to the media.  Long story short, he insulted his mother for “pretending” to sympathize with these people when she herself had never known poverty.  He even accused her of simply trying to find a way to make herself “feel” since her only flesh and blood had died._

_I had no idea Clark ever thought such terrible things.  He even considered himself, at this point in his life, as the consolation prize for a man and woman who lost their only son._

_It didn’t take long to realize what was going on.  It obviously had something to do with the class ring he wouldn’t take off.  I’ll feel sorry for putting Clark through that kind of pain eventually, but Jonathan and I managed to corner him into the Jonathan’s barn.  Then I took a rock and smashed the crystal on Clark’s ring._

_Immediately, Clark began to cry.  Despite everything, all I could do was comfort him.  I believe the so-called ruby was actually red kryptonite.  Where it was obtained is something I am having investigated, but one thing is clear.  It might not harm Clark, but it strips away his inhibitions, leaving behind pure impulse._

_That’s funny.  For Clark green means stop, red means go.  At least he obeys the proper order when it comes to driving._

_Right now Laura and I just need to work on our son.  He’s apologized profusely and has done outrageous things to show he’s sorry—making dinner, doing housework at a humanly pace—but he needs to forgive himself.  We love him with all our hearts.  Maybe we need to work on showing it more._

_I guess it’s fair to say this hasn’t been one of Clark’s best weeks.  He’ll come around.  He always does._

“Emma, do you know why you are in trouble?” asks Lucifer. 

His now eight-year-old daughter glances down from behind her mug of hot chocolate.  His wife would roll over in her grave if allowed her to drink coffee at her age.  He’s also certain she would approve of his reprimanding her in a very public setting like this coffeehouse. 

“Yes, Daddy, you are upset because I chose to bring a set of _toy_ daggers to school,” she finally replies, mimicking his Welsh accent.  Her own accent is a weird mix of both his and her mother’s accents.  Sadly, her wretched classmates tease her for that same accent. 

When her mother was around, she was taught to ignore what others say.  Lucifer agreed—reluctantly—to a point.  Some insults are worth ignoring, others not so much.  Children can be quite inventive in the ways they insult each other.  Esther “Emma” Morningstar ignores most insults, including ones pertaining to her accent, but…

“Daddy, they were making fun of Mommy!” Emma protests.  “What was I supposed to do?”

“Your fists are not as harmful or creative as jabbing someone in the eye with a dagger made of cardboard wrapped in duct tape, but at least you wouldn’t have gotten suspended,” Lucifer reprimands sternly. 

Emma frowns up at him.  “Daddy, you can get most people to tell you what they desire get what you want by promising them something in return.  How can you call me a bad girl when you tend to be a bad boy?”

Lucifer chuckles as he takes a seat next to her.  “Darling, how did you get to be so precocious?  Was it me or your mother?”

“‘Percocious’?” Emma repeats, cocking her head. 

Perhaps that word is a little advanced for the child.  Lucifer reaches over and tucks a strand of her black her behind her ear.  Normally, she doesn’t do anything to it, but today she decided to put it in a knot similar to her mother’s signature ponytail.  She did it herself and it’s a little messy.  Still, it’s quite adorable.  “It’s _precocious_ , darling, and it’s word that describes a girl like you—smart and clever a bit beyond your years.”

Emma blushes at the compliment.  “So does this mean you aren’t angry?”

“Oh, no, I am _very_ angry with you,” Lucifer corrects his spawn sweetly, but firmly.  “This suspension will not be a vacation.  You are banned from your toys and your choice of films and television.  You will do your chores; you will do your homework; you will study; you will do more chores; you will go to bed.”

Emma pouts.  “Will I get to eat during any of that time?”

Her father cocks his head incredulously.  She’s part human.  Unlike him, nourishment isn’t an option for her.  “Of course you will have meals next week during your suspension.  What kind of silly question is that?”

Emma shrugs.  “I don’t know, Daddy.  You’re scary when you’re angry.”

Lucifer laughs wickedly and puts an arm around his daughter.  “Oh, Esther Morningstar, you have no need to fear me.  That’s for sinners and people who are foolish enough to mess with my children.”  The parents of the little boy whose eye Emma jabbed but didn’t damage had quite a few words to say to him.  He stood and listened.

When they finally stopped long enough for him to say something he said, “Obviously you two feel the need to decry my daughter’s uncouth use of violence.  I have a few words prepared for my daughter.  How about two you consider teaching that little brat of yours not to make fun of other children’s mothers?  There is a special place in hell for bullies, but there’s an even worse place for parents who let their children be bullies.  Perhaps you two are just unfit to be parents.  It’s quite a shame.”

As he expected, it infuriated them.  The boy’s hick of a father even tried to throw a punch at him.  Lucifer caught his fist almost lazily…and squeezed.  With his other hand, he wagged his finger disapprovingly. 

“Please, don’t embarrass yourself,” he suggested sweetly.  He released the man’s fist and walked out of the school with his daughter.  He didn’t say word to her until the returned to the Talon.

“May I please at least have a muffin before my week of hell?” asks Emma, curling her lip in a childish pout.

“Are you going to pay for it?”

Emma sighs and fishes a wad of cash out of her pocket.  “Please get me one of the blueberry ones.”

Lucifer accepts the cash with a smile.  “Ah, good choice; there’s a fresh batch out of the oven.  I’ll get you one of them.”  He stands up, straightens his apron and heads over to the counter. 

As he heads over, a new customer catches his eye.  Still heading over to the counter, he cranes his head and spots Diana Prince.  Immediately, he is tempted to pull the I-reserve-the-right-to-refuse-service-to-anyone card on her.  Since their embarrassing throw-down a few months ago, they seem to have avoided each other like the plague.  At least that’s how his daughters and his tenant, Lana Lang describe times when he invites her over for dinner. 

“Ah, Mrs. Kent, I could smell those muffins before they even came out of the oven,” Lucifer compliments as the woman comes out of the kitchen.  “Tell you the truth, you far too kind to be sharing your recipes with everyone.  These muffins are sublime.”  And he means it. 

The middle-aged woman blushes.  Knowing her husband, he might be in danger of losing his head his flirtatious attitude was seen by him.  “ _You_ are the one who is too kind.  You pay me too much for this job.”

“Hush; you’ve earned it,” Lucifer says firmly as he takes a muffin off the tray.  “My daughter will definitely enjoy this muffin,” he adds as he slips the cash into the cash register.  When he looks back up, he comes face to face with Diana.  The woman seems incapable of looking anything other than beautiful, even when wearing a pair of glasses.

A good number of men and boys in the coffeehouse have stopped to glance at her briefly as well.  

“Ms. Prince,” Lucifer greets coldly.

“Mr. Morningstar,” she greets back.

“One of these cashiers will take your order; I’m a little busy,” says Lucifer as he leaves the counter, heading towards his daughter with the muffin on a little plate.  “Here you go, darling,” he tells her as he reaches her.

“Thanks, Daddy,” says Emma, taking the plate. 

Lucifer frowns.  “What, no tip?”

“I love you,” Emma muffles as she takes a bite of her muffin.

Lucifer grumbles.  “Alright, enjoy your muffin.  Daddy has to take care of other customers now.”  He steps away and returns to the counter. 

“Please, Mr. Morningstar, I just want to have a word with you,” Diana begs him.  “I won’t take up much of your time.”

“You are taking up much of my time now, my dear,” Lucifer informs her without meeting her eyes.  “Now unless you wish to order coffee or a pastry, I have nothing more to say to you.”

“I never got a chance to apologize for what happened,” Diana rushes out.

Now Lucifer meets her eyes.  He hopes his glower is as fierce as it feels.  “What exactly are you apologizing for?  Damaging my car?  Nearly harming my daughters’ puppy?  Humiliating me by making me share a tragic loss?  Or nearly robbing my daughters of the only family they had left?”

Diana glances down sheepishly.  She doesn’t seem like the kind of woman who normally gets sheepish about anything.  Lucifer is sure there have been times in her life when she made a really stupid mistake. 

“All of it, I suppose,” she finally replies.

“You suppose?” repeats Lucifer.  “Please, Ms. Prince.  You are embarrassing yourself.”

“How’s the puppy?” asks Diana.

Lucifer glances at his daughter who seems to be pointedly ignoring his conversation with the woman.  His eyes return to Diana and he smiles softly.  “The puppy is doing very well.  My daughters love the creature.  They named her Gothel.”

Diana frowns.  “Is that a reference to something?”

A chuckle escapes Lucifer’s lips.  “None that you’d know of.”  In fact, no one really at this time would know of.  If he could have, he would have brought a copy of that Rapunzel-inspired film with him to this dimension.  Also, he thinks the name is quite generous for the Pug puppy as she is a very ugly dog.

“You know what, I believe I know just what will resolve some of this conflict between us,” he says.

Diana cocks her head.  “And what’s that?”

“There’s a really fine Greek restaurant on 27th Street in Metropolis,” begins Lucifer.  He can’t believe he is doing this.  “Join me for dinner Saturday night.  In fact, I will come pick you up at the Queen house at seven sharp.”  If he will be honest, he does enjoy the blush that spreads across Diana’s goddess-like features.  Deep down, he’s sure his heart still belongs to Chloe Decker, but perhaps something could fill that void. 

“I would love to…Samael,” says Diana. 

Lucifer inhales sharply.  “That is far too intimate at this point in time.”

Diana ignores him.  “Now, I would like a decaf white chocolate latte with extra whip.” 

The former devil’s nostrils flare.  “Coming right up… _all-American gladiator_ ,” he mutters the last few words, too low for anyone to hear.

***

Lex enters the coffeehouse with a deep exhale.  After a long day, he welcomes the smell of coffee.  If he will be honest, this mysterious man, Lucifer Morningstar runs the place a lot better than he ever did.  The man vexes him almost as much as Clark Queen, if not more.  There’s even less to say about the man who shares the name of the devil as there is about Clark Queen.  Until last summer, Lucifer Morningstar never existed. 

It’s like the man and his daughters just appeared out of thin air.  Lex doesn’t like leaving his questions unanswered.  He will dig to China and back if it means finding answers.  More and more, it seems if he wants answers with the Morningstars, he will have to ask one of them directly, or find out who fabricated their history. 

None of that matters at the moment.  All he can think about is what he now knows about Clark Queen.  Not only does he have this insane number of abilities, but apparently he’s not even an earthling?  Their history together suggests that there isn’t much to fear about him, but what about the future?  What would happen if Clark suddenly decided to become some sort of criminal?  What sort of defense would be able to stop him?

As someone who was a friend at one point, Lex is torn.  He wants to give Clark the benefit of the doubt, but he can’t shake the feeling of betrayal for having not told him about his abilities.  All that time that Robert Queen watched his every move, showing that his promise was real if he didn’t stop investigating Clark behind his back, Lex thought he was just being an overprotective father.  Robert _was_ being overprotective and it seems more and more like he was hiding Clark from the world when he should have been sharing him. 

The things Clark could accomplish…in the right hands he could even cut down the cost of military production as well as the lives of soldiers and civilians. 

Otherwise, Clark is just a danger to society that only seems to grow.  If Lex won’t step up and do something about it, then who will?  Lex was never a boy scout, but this could be his moment to prove his worth to the world, to his dead father.

That’s part of the reason he’s in the Talon today.  He’s going to need help and he has found exactly who he is looking for.  Sitting at a small table in the corner is General Sam Lane.  When the decorated general hears what he has to say and sees the potential threat that is Clark Queen, the boy who as far as Lex knows is dating his daughter no less, it will help set Lex’s plans in motion.

Lex steps toward the man.  “General Lane?” he asks.

The general looks up from his mug.  “Lex Luthor, what can I do for you?”

“I’d like to talk about a mutual interest of ours,” he replies. 

The general raises an eyebrow.  “Really, and what’s that?”

“Clark Queen.  You worry about your daughter being so close to him.  I share your concern and I can prove that not only is there something off about him, but that he’s a potential threat to society.”

The general looks skeptical.  “Are you saying he’s a terrorist?”

Lex narrows his eyes.  “Heavens no, but that doesn’t make him any less dangerous.  Five minutes and I’ll even throw in a few of my companies designs for the Army.”

The general still looks skeptical.  “Take a seat, Mr. Luthor.”

Lex smiles and accepts the invitation. 


	47. Chapter Forty-Six

_November 10 th, 2002_

_These last few days have been very interesting…and sad.  I wouldn’t say it was sad for me, but for this woman, Rachel Dunleavy, it was depressing._

_Where do I begin with that woman?  Ms. Dunleavy cornered Clark during school and claimed she was his mother.  There is only too much evidence to prove that she was_ not _his mother.  What were we supposed to do though?  Tell this woman that we found Clark in a cornfield?  All we could do was wonder._

_First things first, I didn’t appreciate Ms. Dunleavy cornering my son at school the way she did.  Another thing bothers me.  Living in this town, I eventually stopped locking my doors the way many people in Smallville do.  Some family photographs were just a tad out of place.  Did Ms. Dunleavy enter my house without permission?_

_Laura was at home that day, so she was there when Clark came home from school with the peculiar news.  I was looking over a few papers in my office and when I saw my wife was calling me, I welcomed the distraction.  Doesn’t matter how high or low you are in a business.  Paperwork sucks.  She told me what Clark told her, about Ms. Dunleavy and the number she gave him to call, I was dumbstruck.  My cellphone fell out of my hand._

_I cancelled the rest of my day and drove home as quickly as I could.  Once we sat Clark down, he told us about her, said she had given him up for adoption through Metropolis United Charities, but not before she named him Lucas.  She even bought a house in Smallville.  Isn’t that a bit too forward?  Well, we finally told Clark how we legitimized his adoption._

_Thinking back now, I’m not sure why we didn’t use a different adoption agency.  It was us who forged his documents, making sure that he had enough of a background to prove his existence, but it was through Metropolis United Charities that we brought him into our lives.  The agency went defunct not long after that. I was under the impression that Clark’s adoption was the only one it handled.  I guess not._

_Not knowing what else to do, we called the number.  Ms. Dunleavy sounded only too happy to meet.  We omitted the fact that Clark would not be present when she came to visit.  Ms. Dunleavy came to see us and she was disappointed to say the least that Clark wasn’t home.  He was seeing a movie with Chloe._

_All things considered, Ms. Dunleavy was very polite.  All she wanted to do was get to know Clark.  It was Laura who told her gently, but firmly that she sincerely hoped Ms. Dunleavy would find her son someday, but asked her to not come near Clark, or our family again.  It was not what Ms. Dunleavy wanted to hear._

_That night as we got ready for bed, we wondered out loud if we had just made a grave mistake.  We were about to get our answer._

_The next day, while Jonathan and Martha were over for dinner, Sheriff Ethan came over.  Ms. Dunleavy went to the sheriff!  She had demanded that Clark take a DNA test.  We weren’t worried about Clark proving that he wasn’t Ms. Dunleavy’s son.  We were worried that his DNA would prove to be not human._

_Laura asked nicely.  I wasn’t as nice.  I tracked down Ms. Dunleavy to her new address, thanks to the help of Chloe, and confronted her.  I told her that we had asked her to leave our family alone.  Clark is not her son, but she seemed far too convinced that he was.  To make things weirder, she confessed that her son is also Lionel illegitimate son.  That makes the name “Lucas” all the more fitting._

_Ms. Dunleavy seemed to be a very fragile woman.  The more things weren’t going her way, the worse she got.  I warned her that if she continued to pursue this, I would come back with charges of harassment.  That was a bad move._

_My afternoon turned into one of the few moments I genuinely feared for my life.  Having been knocked out, I woke up tied to a chair.  When things became clear enough for me to speak, I was frank.  Doing this, she was making it more difficult for herself._

_She didn’t listen.  She was reminiscing.  Birthday cakes, chances to tuck Clark in, doing things that mothers do, my Laura did that.  Actually, it was Martha Kent who made the birthday cakes for both Clark and Oliver.  Okay, the deep sense jealousy is understandable, but it didn’t excuse what she was doing.  She called Lionel, told him that if she didn’t publicly announce Clark as his illegitimate son, he would lose a business partner._

_Honestly, I wasn’t sure if Lionel cared enough.  Still, when the press conference showed up on the TV set, Lionel, blind, but bold, promised that if Ms. Dunleavy did anything to me, he would not rest until she was taken away for good.  Ms. Dunleavy lost it.  She was about to swing at me with an ax when Clark came bursting in.  The ax shattered against him._

_Seeing that Clark was something different, someone not her son seemed to have sent Ms. Dunleavy into a mental breakdown.  When the police arrived, she looked vacant, like a vegetable.  When Clark and I got home, I embraced my wife.  I couldn’t comfort her too well as I was as scared and relieved as she was.  Still, I had some unfinished business._

_I confronted Lionel.  I could have been killed.  I told him to tell me about Lucas.  Lionel was aware that I could tell when he was lying, so he told the truth.  He does have a son named Lucas.  He’s been out of touch with him for some time.  Lex has no idea of his existence and Lionel wanted it to stay that way.  I promised that I would leave it alone, but I can’t say the same for Lex.  Lex can never let things go and he won’t stop until he finds his brother._

_“Hey, Lois, um it’s Clark again.  I figured you want space, so as such this is only the fifth time I’ve tried to call you over the last couple of weeks.  I’d really like to hear from you.  Bye.”_

Lois deletes the message and tosses her phone on the bed.  True to his word, she does want space.  She appreciates that quality, him not being a needy boyfriend.  Guiltily, she suspects he is wondering if they are still technically dating.  Irrationally, a thought hits her mind.  Will he turn into a needy boyfriend?  No, that’s ridiculous. 

Clark is not a needy person.  Lois would like to think that she’s not a needy person.  She’s also certain that Chloe wasn’t a needy girlfriend. 

Chloe. 

Lois just wants to throttle her cousin.  She wants to slap her silly.  Chloe is another person Lois has been avoiding.  At the moment, but Clark and Chloe do nothing but fill Lois with angry thoughts. 

How could Clark be so secretive?  They had been dating tentatively, but smoothly and all that time he had been hiding that humongous secret.  Worse yet, Chloe was the one who talked her into dating him and failed to mention that he might not just be _different_ , but otherworldly. 

Who is she to complain, though?  Lois has her share of big secrets.  Her father’s demands are inescapable.  In the last two weeks of having not seen the Queens, she has become more restless.  Normally, she considers herself a heavy sleeper, waking only to the sound of her alarm or the smell of food.  Now, it seems more sounds are waking her up.  In some ways, her father is becoming her own personal bogeyman.

To worsen that feeling, her father has become suspiciously quiet in the last couple of weeks.  He hasn’t bothered her once.  A part of her feels she should be grateful, but she’s worried.  A part of her wants to warn Oliver and Clark.  In doing so, she would be forced to reveal that she investigated them behind their backs for about as long as she has known them.  She was forced to.  Would they understand?  Would they believe her if she told them that she didn’t tell her father things that he could have looked up on the internet? 

What would it do to her relationship with Clark?  Maybe he will understand.  Maybe he will believe her when she tells him that as she started to slowly fall in love with him that her defiance towards her father grew to the point where she was willing to say _kiss my ass_ to his face.

Chloe would definitely never speak to her again.

It all scares her.  The punishments that her father can inflict scare her.  Memories of hours of cold water conditioning, holding up logs, jogging in freezing temperatures in a sports bra and shorts flood her mind.  In some ways, her father made a brutal soldier out of her without ever officially sending her to basic training.

All she wanted was a dad.  That man most likely died with her mother. 

Lois’ thoughts are interrupted by someone knocking on her door.  “Go away!” she shouts from her sitting position on the floor in front of her bed. 

“Lois, please let in,” that’s Chloe’s voice.

“I don’t want to talk to you and you can pass that message on to Clark,” Lois informs her stubbornly.

“Clark doesn’t know I’m here,” Chloe corrects her.  “Now either you let me in, or I’m just going to sit out here and wait for you to open the door.”

“I’m not coming out!”

“I don’t want you to come out; I want you to let me in.”

“I’m never letting you in.”

“Then I guess I’m never getting up from sitting outside your door.”

Lois rolls her eyes.  “So we are at a stalemate.”

“Looks like it,” agrees Chloe. 

Lois snarls under her breath and rises from her sitting position.  She stomps towards the door and opens it violently to reveal Chloe sitting cross-legged just outside.  Lois frowns at the object in her cousin’s hand.  “Seriously?”

Chloe looks at the tissue in her hand and shrugs.  “White flag.”

Lois cracks a smile without meaning to.  “Get in here, you freak.”

Her cousin rises from her position and steps into the dorm.  “So you still have no roommate?”

“I’m too bitchy,” replies Lois cheekily. 

Chloe considers that.  “Nah, you are just too much of a Lois.”

Lois raises an eyebrow.  “Is that supposed to be an insult?”

“No,” replies Chloe as she sits down on the bed.  “So, how’ve you been?”

“I’ve been better,” Lois replies honestly as she takes a seat next to Chloe.

“You haven’t been answering mine or Clark’s calls.”  Her cousin’s tone makes Lois feel all the guiltier.  If this was a courtroom and she was the accused, Lois would be a portrait of guilt.  “We’re worried about you.”

“How’s Clark?” asks Lois. 

Chloe groans.  “He wishes he knew exactly how you feel about him and we both know I’m not talking about your feelings for him.  So how do you feel?”

It’s Lois’ turn to groan and she falls backward.  She misjudges the width of the bed and her head hits the wall.  “Ow!” she winces, rubbing her head. 

“You okay?” asks Chloe between suppressed giggles. 

“I’ll survive,” Lois groans back and she adjusts herself so that her back is against the bedframe.  “To answer your question, I’m pissed.”

“Pissed?” repeats Chloe.  Lois can tell that that was the last response she was expecting.  “What are you pissed about it?”

Lois frowns.  “Do you need to ask?”  When Chloe glares at her she sits up straighter.  “Okay, I am pissed because you convinced me to date your _ex_.  Admittedly, I really like the guy.  And then months later, I find out that not only does he have all these powers, but he’s an _alien from another planet_!  All this time he kept that huge secret from me.  Hell, I was ready to drag him to bed and…” she stops mid-tirade to register Chloe’s look.  “Okay, too much information.”

“So you are angry with me because I convinced you to give a great guy a chance?” Chloe sums up. 

“Guy?” repeats Lois.  “Is that even an appropriate word to describe him?”

Chloe scowls dangerously.  “Don’t make me smack you, Lois,” she warns quietly. 

Lois raises an eyebrow.  “I never thought you were the physical type.”

“In the right circumstance I can be.”

“Fair enough.”  It actually impresses Lois.  She would love to see just how hard her little cousin can hit.  She sighs heavily.  “Okay, maybe ‘pissed’ is too harsh of a word, but basically handed Clark to me on a silver platter and you didn’t tell me he was…different?”

Chloe doesn’t look the least bit rueful.  “It would have gotten you asking too many questions.  Also, if you’re upset because I didn’t tell you that Clark is an _intergalactic traveler_ , then you’re a dumbass.”

Lois raises her eyebrows.  “Excuse me?”

“It wasn’t my secret to share!”

“You could have given a little implication, something that would have made the impromptu reveal less intense.”

“No ‘implication’ would have prepared you for Clark’s secret, Lois.”

“You don’t know that,” Lois argues stubbornly.

Chloe smiles wickedly.  “I do.”

“Okay, genius, how did _you_ react when Clark told _you_ about his secret?”

Chloe’s look turns reminiscent, thoughtful even.  “I’ll admit I was a little freaked out.”

“But?”

“Lois, I’ve spent half my life surrounded by all this weirdness,” Chloe explains.  “I’ve known Clark a lot longer than you and I’ve witnessed some even weirder things.”  Her voice drops to a whisper.  “Did I ever tell you I was almost raped?”

Lois’ eyes widen out of her skull.  She flies across the bed and yanks her little cousin into a protective hug.  “Chloe, I’m so sorry.”

Chloe hugs her back.  “It was a long time ago.”

“Damn it, Chloe, how come you never told me?”  Tears break loose and Lois holds her cousin a little tighter. 

“You had your own problems to deal with at the time and I didn’t want to burden you with mine,” her cousin confesses.  “Plus, I already had plenty of emotional support.”

“I’m assuming Clark had something to do with the fact that it was an ‘almost’ rape?”

Chloe nods softly.  “Somehow, my would-be rapist ended up flying through a wall and many of his bones were shattered.  He’s still in a comatose state in the prison ward of Met-Gen.  I always suspected it was Clark, especially as he continued to mysteriously show up whenever something bad happened to me.  Somewhere along the line, I started to know that Clark would always be there.  Finding out what he was, it just confirmed what I’d been suspected for so long, and more.”

“And you think I should have reacted similarly?” asks Lois as she and Chloe break apart.  She hopes the question isn’t as harsh as she thinks it sounded.

“Absolutely not,” replies Chloe.  “You’ve known him less than a year; I’d be worried something was wrong with you if you weren’t freaked out just a little.” She emphasizes with a gesture of her thumb and index finger.  “What I don’t understand, however, is why the hell you aren’t giving him the chance to explain himself.  Sure, you need some space to wrap your head around all this, but the radio silence?  With both me _and_ him?  That’s a bit harsh.”

Lois stares into her lap ruefully.  She should give a full confession, but she’s not ready.  Is it at all similar to how Clark felt when he contemplated revealing his secret to her?  He doesn’t have anything to be ashamed of.  She does want to remind him of that.  Eventually.  She, on the other hand, has so much to be ashamed of.

“I know, Chloe,” she says eventually.  “I’m just not sure how I feel about him anymore.”

“What!” Chloe exclaims.  “What do you mean you don’t know how you feel about him anymore?”

“What I mean is it’s like I don’t know him anymore,” Lois explains.  “At the moment, he freaks me out.”

“Okay, look, as for that first part, all you have to do is _get to know_ him,” Chloe says emphatically.  “And I can understand you’re freaked out, but Clark is a great guy.”

“Why are you so determined for Clark and I to be together?” demands Lois.

Chloe’s face falls serious again.  “Because you are never going to find a better guy.”

Lois raises an eyebrow.  “So what, is Clark a Gary Stu or a god?”  Now Chloe slaps her.  The slap is hard enough that Lois sees stars.  Smiling through the fiery pain in her cheek, Lois says, “That was a good slap.”

“Clark is not a god or a Gary Stu,” Chloe corrects her through her teeth.  “He has enough powers to freak about a lot of people, but more than anything, he just wants to be able to walk down the street, be who he is, and not be judged because of it.  At least, not to the point that people are after him.  He’s a great guy because he’s a gentleman.  When he looks at you, it’s like you’re the only woman in the room worthy of so much as a second glance.  He has a way of making you feel beautiful even when you can’t see it.  When you have a bad day, he makes you feel safe because you know that he will be the one who puts a smile on your face.  And you know that you are the one who is able to do the same for him.  And when he embarrasses you with his outrageous displays of affection, at the end of the day, you feel that more special.  It’s because you know that you are the one who is making a normally reserved guy do something so…flashy.    

“And the powers and extra-terrestrial heritage?”  Chloe shrugs.  “It’s just the cherry on top of the best cake you ever tasted.”

Lois blinks several times.  “I’ve never been able to get him to make an outrageous display of affection.  Not unless kissing me in front of a bunch of kids counts.”

Chloe smiles confidently.  “Maybe not now, but you will.  So, stop being a bitch and let him be your man!”

Lois straightens up and solutes her cousin.  “Yes ma’am, Coach Sullivan!”

Chloe smiles with pride.  “Good, now I am going to head out and in an hour you are going to join me, Trixie, and Clark at Clark’s favorite Indian place.”  She gets up and leaves without another word. 

Lois sits there watching the door for several minutes.  She’s not sure if reasons for why Clark is such a great guy were all that Chloe was telling her.  She’s not even sure if Chloe is aware of it.  If anything, her cousin should have seen the look on her face as she was listing off Clark's qualities.   

“I don’t think you’re telling me everything, Chlo.”  An ironic statement, but it seems that she and Chloe aren’t the best at being fully honest with each other lately.   


	48. Chapter Forty-Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that I seem to be down to one chapter a week at the moment. I hope you all enjoy it just the same. Plus, if I don’t manage to get more than one chapter in next weekend, it’ll be because my birthday is next Sunday. 
> 
> Also, I’m stuck on mandatory overtime every other week at the moment, so usually by the weekends I am just exhausted. I do what I can though.

_November 20 th, 2002_

_Clark is in a very delicate state right now.  His old friend Ryan resurfaced recently.  I liked that boy._

_I’m sorry, it’s taken me a few minutes to let the past-tense of that word sink in.  Ryan died.  It turns out that telepathic ability of his was caused by an inoperable brain tumor.  Clark was desperate.  He didn’t want to see his friend die.  Also, I do think some of that reluctance to see comes from the lasting trauma of losing his brother.  In fact, in Clark’s desperation, he begged me to get ahold of someone who could help Ryan._

_I guess I could have told him the truth and told him that it was futile.  I’m sure Ryan could read that in my mind.  Still, I caved.  I made some calls and I was able to set Ryan up with one of the best neurosurgeons in the country.  The operation was successful, but it only bought Ryan a few more days of life.  As a last request, Clark took his friend flying._

_Clark places huge value in his friendships.  I’m sure some of that comes from his deep sense of loneliness.  We all do our part to try and ameliorate that.  Not to sound jealous, but it seems the one person who helps him the most is Chloe.  They are very close.  They don’t seem like a typical high school romance, hashing out a fling that is doomed to fail like so many others.  In fact, I am very certain that if they broke up for any reason, they would still be extremely close.  It would hurt them both like a gunshot before it got better, but it would get better for them both._

_Back to Ryan, in the days leading up to his passing, things were very strange.  He had escaped from Summerholt Neurological Institute.  The place is a research facility; why would they have a boy there?  I soon learned how disgusting some humans can be.  Because of Ryan’s condition, he was basically sold to the institute for research.  They were experimenting on the extent of his telepathy skills._

_That same doctor tracked him to my house and it turns out he was Ryan’s legal guardian.  I pulled some strings and a restraining order was set in place.  Knowing what was done to him in that place, Laura was about ready to file a lawsuit against the whole institute.  Ryan didn’t want that.  He was worried about the publicity.  I suppose he was right._

_That could have been Clark.  He could have been the one under a microscope.  If the wrong people got his hands on him, he would likely never know freedom again.  They would never stop poking and prodding him.  He is a curiosity.  Virgil has deep interest in Clark, but his study of Clark has nothing to do with the fact that he’s a creature from outer space.  His interest is borne of a mutual desire to know more of Clark’s origins and his purpose in this world._

_In terms of purpose, based on what Clark says, the words of his disembodied biological father would suggest he must be some sort of “ruler.”  It’s a scary thought.  I’d like to tell Clark that the word has many meanings, but he doesn’t seem to be in any mood to discuss it.  As far as he’s concerned, his father wants him to be some sort of tyrant.  I will agree that the artificial intelligence he has for a father is quite harsh._

_Also, I’m not sure if he likes me.  I do believe that his father had some sort of plan for Clark.  A feeling in my gut says that my wife and I weren’t the caregivers his father had in mind.  That doesn’t make us awful people, does it?_

_Beyond that, there’s been an interesting development with Clark’s friend, Lex.  The silly boy smashed a meter man’s car.  I’m sure it was misplaced anger.  Lionel has been riding the Lex something fierce.  Lex is a young, inexperienced businessman who has a lot to learn, but Lionel could be a kinder disciplinarian or mentor to his son.  What can I say?  Lex is not my son, nor godson, so it’s inappropriate for me to interfere.  Still, if only because Clark values his friendship with him so much, I offer Lex advice where I can._

_What I could not do was get Lex out of his court-ordered anger management.  He could do was Clark does.  He could be smashing bad produce that turns up in Jonathan’s crops.  It’s quite entertaining. Sometimes, if we are having a lot of fun, we will take fresh produce, like watermelons and apples and toss them into the air for Clark to explode with his heat vision.  Hearing Martha, Chloe, and my wife shriek as they get sprayed with bits of watermelon is a bit of a delight.  It’s a especially funny when Laura starts scolding herself for wearing expensive clothing when Clark starts vaporizing fruit._

_Clark is vulnerable right now, but we do have ways of cheering him up.  Exploding fruit is just one of them.  Chloe has her ways as well, but if they don’t stay child friendly, Laura might intervene._

 

“Daddy, you look so good!” squeals Emma. 

Lucifer grimaces into his full-length mirror.  He agreed to go on a date with an Amazon bastard.  Admittedly, she’s a very beautiful Amazon bastard, but a bastard nonetheless.  One of the few things that he and his brothers could all agree on was their opinions of pagan deities.  Pagans are scum.  Every one of them from Odin, to Zeus, to Jupiter, to Ra, to Cronus, and every other deity remembered and forgotten are and were scum. 

Dad was and is a jealous god.  That jealousy, as much as Lucifer would hate to admit it, was passed down to the likes of him, Amenadiel, and all their siblings.  He and Amenadiel didn’t agree on much, and Amenadiel never enjoyed listening to Lucifer’s stories about Hell, but he didn’t mind hearing some of the ways pagan worshippers punished themselves. 

One of them spent day after day after day being scourged and crucified. 

His brothers ought to be having a big laugh at him now.  Lucifer is taking the bastard daughter of a bastard god to dinner!  He still wonders what his wife would be saying.  Would she be teasing him?  Would she be asking him if he prefers raven-haired goddesses over badass blondes?  The thought actually entertains him to some degree. 

“Daddy, are you nervous?” teases Emma.

Lucifer quits criticizing his Dolce and Gabbana tuxedo with a red handkerchief and whips around to face his daughter sitting on his bed.  He places his hands on his hips and straightens up.  “Nervous?” he repeats, scandalized.  “Sweetheart, your father does not get nervous.”

“Humph,” Emma scoffs.  “Trixie says when you were dating Mommy that your legs would buckle when you were waiting to see what dress she was wearing.”

Lucifer’s face turns a pasty white.  “Oh, did she now?”  He and Trixie are going to have a talk later.  “What else did she tell you, pray tell?”

“That you got so nervous that Mommy proposed to you instead of you proposing to her,” replies Emma.  She shakes her head as she shakes with giggles.  “Daddy you’re afraid of girls!” 

Lucifer’s jaw drops.  “I am not!”  He can’t tell her about his nullified promiscuity either…can he?

“Daddy’s afraid of girls!  Daddy’s afraid of girls!” Emma continues to mock in a singsong voice. 

Lucifer crosses his arms and stares up at the ceiling, tapping his finger.  _Don’t kill your daughter, don’t kill your daughter,_ he says to himself.  Chloe will come crawling out of her grave and gun him down like a serial killer on the loose.  He’s also very certain that this merciless teasing didn’t come from him. 

“Are you quite finished, little devil?” he asks eventually.

Emma’s face falls dead serious.  “Daddy, quit being a chicken and let’s get out here.”  She punctuates her little order with a very condescending clucking.

Lucifer grumbles as he grabs his overcoat.  “You will be very lucky if I don’t decide to ground you for another week for all that teasing, young lady.”

Humor flees his daughter’s eyes as she bows her head.  Lucifer sighs and pulls his daughter close.  In fact he loves her sense of humor and the way she teases him.  It reminds him so much of her mother.  When the time is right, he lets her know.  Other times, like this when he is in fact a nervous wreck, it’s not very helpful.  Well, maybe it is.  It’s already loosening some of the tension that’s built up. 

He’s not too comfortable with people being in his house, so he’s taking Emma with him to the Queens’ house.  She likes spending time with them.  Clark Queen is off on his own little double date with Lois Lane, Chloe Sullivan, and Trixie, so she will just be spending time with Oliver.  Lana Lang, with whom Trixie and Emma get along, will be coming over as well.  What Lucifer is wondering is if Oliver’s girlfriend, Tess Mercer will be there. 

That woman interests Lucifer very much.  She seems to have a very complicated past.  He also suspects that some of that past is so buried deep, so suppressed that even she has trouble accessing it.  He’s seen her on enough occasions to not suspect any ulterior motives.  He even asked her what she desired once and it took her a long time to answer.  She’s a very complicated woman to say the least.  She wants to prove herself in the world, but when she said that she wanted a sense of belonging, it sounded like a more recent development.

Of all the places that Lucifer could have chosen to live, he picked a very strange place.  Why didn’t he just go somewhere in Ohio where the biggest complaint would have been the weather never making up its mind?  At least that’s what he’s heard Ohioans say once or twice when he lived in Los Angeles.  He has never been to Ohio.  It seems like an interesting place though. 

As for a town like Smallville?  He would go to sleep a happy man if not one weird thing happened for a week.  Going out to dinner with an Amazon princess is just the cherry on top of all that weirdness. 

“I sure hope her car is more glamorous than mine,” he mutters as he and his daughter head outside to his SUV.  He smiles to himself as Emma says goodbye to the puppy, promising to be home as soon as she can.  Lucifer will admit it is very pitiful seeing that bug-eyed creature stare out the window mournfully.  Dogs can be special creatures, but none of them will ever understand why their masters leave them.  

Sometimes, he wishes the dog would leave him alone.  Why does that dog like him so much?  Why must that dog continuously shed all over his clothes?  As his daughters remind him, the dog can’t help it.  That pug puppy can’t help shedding any more than Lucifer can help the fact that most women are carnally fascinated with him.  After the death of his wife, he swore to himself that he would never have sex again.  To this day, he has kept that promise, but women still look at him as if imagining what it would be like for him to be inside them. 

Lucifer is not without his sexual fantasies.  Most of the time those fantasies are occupied by his late wife.  Eons and eons have taught him to have a long term memory.  His memory of Chloe Decker is as clear as if he just saw her a minute ago.  It pleases him and breaks his heart at the same time.  After her almost marriage to Marcus Pierce, Lucifer thought there was nothing that could make him feel worse. 

Five to ten years is a blink of the eye for him.  Spending that time mourning loss, being a caregiver, has taught him just how precious time is.  The woman infuriates him, but Diana Prince seems to be bringing something of a spark back into his heart.

Ever since Diana talked him into dinner, he’s been feeling strange.  He has spent the weekend taking cold showers.  In fact, he didn’t get a decent night’s sleep last night.  His dreams were occupied by his Chloe…and Diana Prince.  He hasn’t seen the woman without her clothes on so it was a bit of an odd picture.  Actually, he got up and spent an hour reading a boring book about the American Revolution while sitting in an ice bath. 

His thoughts are interrupted as he arrives at the driveway leading to the Queen house.  The property has a very conspicuous “No trespassing” sign.  Knowing what Clark Queen can do, it’s perfectly understandable.  In fact, the Kent property has a similarly conspicuous sign warning trespassers to stay away.  To satisfy his curiosity, he looked it up.  Paparazzi stopped trying to sneak their way onto the Queen property, or even approach the Queens unannounced about six months after the Queens moved into Smallville.  The Queens seemed pretty keen on not drawing attention to themselves.  One day paparazzi just stopped. 

Lucifer wonders if they might have done something violent to get them all to stay away. 

As he draws closer to the big house, Lucifer can really feel an aura around the place.  While this place has a strong sense of loss in the deaths of Robert and Laura Queen, it’s easily overshadowed by a sense of joy and love.  He wonders what the Queen boys’ shared childhood was like.  Did they get along?  Were they a mischievous pair of troublemakers?  And how involved was Diana Prince in their lives?

Lucifer makes a mental note to ask that very question at dinner.  He parks in front of the house.  With a deep breath, he straights his suit and gets out of the SUV.  Emma gets out of the car before he does and he watches fondly as she rushes up the steps and rings the doorbell.  He counts almost twenty seconds before the door swings open. 

Lucifer’s eyes find Oliver Queen.  _What is it with people in this dimension and color schemes?_ Lucifer asks silently as he gets out of the car.  Clark Queen’s wardrobe seems to be nothing but silk shirts in primary colors or black.  Oliver Queen seems to live in the color green.  Lucifer wonders if his favorite holiday is St. Patrick’s Day.  A bit less obvious, but even Diana Prince seems to enjoy her primary colors, if her costume is no indicator.  If he hadn’t known better, judging by that silly outfit she wears when she calls herself Wonder Woman, he would have thought she had come out of some sort of strippers club.  Yes, and that strippers club for some reason would have a kinky warrior’s night. 

He is going to have to see more of her in action before he can say that she is better than Xena.  He also doubts she would appreciate being compared to a sexualized warrior princess from a cult television show.

He heads up to the front door that was left wide open.  As he passes the threshold, his nose is immediately invaded by the strong smell of cookies.  Emma’s favorite cookies are peanut butter cookies, but Lucifer is aware that Oliver Queen is allergic to peanuts.  Chocolate chip cookies are delicious as well, but Lucifer has tasted some very awful cookies before.  It could just be that the person who baked them was a dreadful baker.

Oliver Queen is far from dreadful.  If Lucifer wasn’t so concerned about his breath, he would love a cookie. 

“What’s the occasion, Oliver?” he asks.

Oliver Queen appears around out of the archway leading into the kitchen, having removed the oven mitts Lucifer saw him wearing earlier.  “Oh, my girlfriend needed to learn how to bake cookies.”

Lucifer narrows his eyes.  “Ms. Mercer cannot bake?”

“That’s a bit of a strong word.”  Lucifer shifts his gaze and sees Tess Mercer also emerge from the kitchen with her hair tied up loosely and with a few streaks of flour on her face and hands.  It looks to him like the recipe was winning the battle. 

“Mercy, we had to throw away the first batch because you couldn’t tell a dash of salt from a tablespoon of salt,” laughs Oliver as he wraps an arm around the ginger’s waist. 

Tess blushes furiously.  “I didn’t realize that there was measuring spoon called a ‘dash.’”

Lucifer raises his eyebrows.  “Oh dear, for someone as intelligent as you are, I’d think you would know more about kitchen supplies.”

“You would think,” Oliver agrees. 

Tess scoffs and tears herself away from her boyfriend before stalking off.  Emma follows after her. 

“She’ll come around,” Oliver says confidently before turning to face Lucifer. 

“So, where’s the woman who I am to join for a fancy dinner?” asks Lucifer.  As if in answer, something at the top of the stairs catches the former devil’s eye.  What he sees causes him to straighten up and swallow the saliva in his mouth hard.

Diana Prince seems to be one of the women who are incapable of looking anything less than stunning.  He supposes that being on of Zeus’ bastards has something to do with that.  Perhaps he should stop using the word _bastard_.  Fearfully, he wonders what his father thinks of this fraternization with this Greek deity.  Michael might just toss him in Hell all over again. 

With her hair tied back in an elegant wide braid and chandelier-like earrings dangling from her ears, the woman’s head could put the most elaborate bust at the London Museum to shame.  Her floor-length halter gown of deep red, almost the shade of blood, leaves little to the imagination as it hugs her curves as well as her breasts.  He soon finds himself greatly disappointed that the skirt has no slit, offering a lovely view of one of her legs.

This woman doesn’t want him to focus on any one part of her body.  She wants him to focus on her as a whole. 

Lucifer clears his throat and smiles.  “Where were you when Paris was bribed was with who was the most beautiful of the goddesses?”

Diana blushes furiously, something that seems rather uncharacteristic to Lucifer.  “I wasn’t even born yet.”

Lucifer nods briefly.  “What a shame.  You might have prevented the Trojan War.”

“And thus rob the world of the _Iliad_ as well as the _Odyssey_?” asks Diana incredulously.

Lucifer inclines his head as he considers that notion.  “That would be a pity, yes, but I strongly believe that dear old Homer would have found something else to write that would have been just as epic.  Perhaps something lacking a stupid goat farmer who kidnaps a man’s wife and infanticide?”  No matter the reason, Lucifer has loathed infanticide for eons.  He’s enjoyed punishing people who slaughtered infants.  The _Iliad_ is a heavily dramatized version of what actually happened, but Menelaus really did love his wife.

Diana noticeably cringes as she lifts her skirt in one hand and descends the stairs.  Lucifer catches a glimpse of a pair of rather painful looking five-inch chrome Prada stilettos.  Why is he all of the sudden so concerned about women sacrificing comfort for beauty?  It never bothered him before, not when he invited women wearing corsets into his bed.  That was before he admitted his love for Chloe Decker and swore to never sleep with another woman again. 

He keeps his promises.

“Those are awful things yes,” agrees Diana.  “It’s also a nasty conversation waiting to happen.”

“Agreed.”  He’s read some compelling arguments that discuss both sides of the topic of infanticide during the sack of Troy.  He changes the subject.  “You look lovely this evening.”

Diana seems quite happy for the change of subject.  She also seems about as self-conscious about a direct compliment as any woman with a shred of humility.  “Thank you.  You look quite handsome as well.”

He tries to.  “ _Are you proof that unearthly beauty is a natural occurrence in Greek deities?_ ” he questions in Ancient Greek.

Diana raises her eyebrows.  “ _You seem linguistically knowledgeable_ ,” she observes in Ancient Greek.

Lucifer smiles smugly.  “I have passable knowledge of every language ever spoken by mankind all the way back to Eden.”  But he can’t read and write every language.

“Okay, let me get this straight,” says Oliver.  Lucifer breaks his gaze from Diana, remembering that they aren’t the only people in the room.

“What’s that, Oliver?” he asks conversationally.

Oliver opens his mouth, lifting a finger, before closing his mouth again.  “Are you seriously…?”

“Yes,” replies Lucifer, knowing what he’s asking. 

“From the Bible?”

“Yes.”

“Cast out of Heaven…?”

Lucifer rolls his eyes.  “Yes.”

“The man that many people have sold their souls to?”

A startled bit of laughter escapes Lucifer’s throat.  “Oh, please, like I ever cared.  Everyone you’ve ever read about who had ‘made a pact with the devil’ was just some stupid moron worshipping an idol.  Satanism is preposterous.  And black metal?  I’d rather listen to the blues.  Yes, Oliver Queen.  I am devil himself.”

Oliver nods slowly and stares at the half-eaten cookie in his hand.    

“Oh and please don’t assume that my daughter bears any similarity to movies such as _Solomon Rising_ ,” Lucifer adds with a smile. 

Oliver purses his lips.  “I guess I should call Chloe and tell her that Wall of Weird just went biblical.” 

Lucifer watches with barely suppressed laughter as Oliver heads down to the basement.

“Do you think he’ll be alright?” asks Diana.

“Absolutely not,” replies Lucifer.  “Now, shall we go?”

“Are we taking your SUV?”

Lucifer curls his lip.  “Oh dear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing Lucifer and I am very spiritual and I won't deny the fun I have writing these little clashes between Lucifer and Diana. As such, if anyone feels that I am not keeping things religiously neutral, feel free to call me on it.


	49. Chapter Forty-Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's my birthday, so I'm in a bit of a good mood. I hope everyone enjoys this chapter!

_November 30 th, 2002,_

_Well, I’ve been introduced to the Kawatche tribe.  I wish I could say it was a pleasant first encounter.  Lionel and I had been discussing a lucrative office building that would grant many jobs for several people in Smallville.  We even had a plot where construction would begin._

_That’s where everything went downhill._

_Setting things up for construction was well underway, when people the chief of the Kawatche tribe, Joseph Willowbrook, came and tried to speak to us.  He was not on board with the idea of the office plaza.  I could not tell whether Mr. Willowbrook was in love with the idea of the plaza or not, his concern was constructing something on ground that was sacred to the Kawatche tribe._

_The businessman in me was shouting that this was a lucrative endeavor.  My conscience was telling me I should consider moving the project somewhere else or dropping it altogether.  Mr. Willowbrook was practically pushed off the place by the foreman under the order of Lionel._

_It wasn’t until I got home and I was having dinner with my family that Laura called me out on my uncharacteristic silence.  I confessed my dilemma.  Laura loves the concept of helping create more jobs in this town as much as I do.  I believe Clark likes the concept as well.  However, Clark is also somebody who puts the feelings of others above all else.  I believe if he keeps up that quality, he might make a great businessman one day._

_I just hope it doesn’t also become his worst flaw._

_Anyway, Clark thought that it wouldn’t hurt to hear Joseph Willowbrook out.  The man’s a professor at Central Kansas University.  He’s a busy man as well as I.  Still, I left the man a message and made sure to make time to speak to each other._

_We met the next day at the Talon.  I must say, I was intrigued by what Mr. Willowbrook had to say.  I have never gotten invested in cultures.  Even so, Native American tribes have more significance than this country gives them credit for.  The Kawatche tribe is actually a very small tribe compared to many other tribes in the country.  I’m not even sure how many of the tribe actually still speaks the language._

_According to Mr. Willowbrook, there’s a bit lore surrounding the grounds.  According to legend, there’s a guardian that will ward off all who dares disturb the grounds.  Naturally I dismissed it as gossip.  No, that’s not the right word; “myth” is a more appropriate word._

_Little did I know that I was about to get proven very wrong.  The foreman that turned away Mr. Willowbrook was found dead near what was left of his car._

_That same day, Clark while out exploring fell through the ground.  Even if there was nothing wrong with him, I was still worried.  Interestingly enough, Clark fell into a cave.  They were the Kawatche caves.  I wonder, do the caves get their name from tribe or does the tribe get its name from the caves?  I need to make a note of looking that up._

_Clark also met Mr. Willowbrook’s granddaughter, Kyla.  She’s a lovely young woman.  Like many young ladies, she had taken a fancy to Clark.  I couldn’t help teasing him.  Chloe better keep a tight leash on her boyfriend._

_Clark got flustered, but Laura and I knew that Chloe had nothing to worry about.  Clark is amazingly monogamous for a boy his age.  Still he couldn’t help getting to know Kyla.  She basically gave Clark a thorough tour of the caves.  There seems to be a lot more significance to the caves than any of us realized._

_It’s quite possible the Kawatche people prophesied Clark’s arrival long before Virgil even formed Veritas.  According to the cave paintings, there’s going to be an enemy that Clark is destined to fight, or at least be forever embroiled with.  Hell, the cave paintings go so far as to predict who will be the love of Clark’s life.  Based on the paintings, it might be a brunette._

_Destiny is a fickle thing.  It’s also something that greatly vexes Clark.  He doesn’t like living under the notion that his future is laid out before him, as if everything about him is set in stone, in this case literally.  He also sees this ‘love of his life’ aspect of his destiny as, and I quote, as “an arranged marriage.”  He doesn’t want anyone deciding who he’s going to love, how he’s going to turn out, or even who he’s going to end up being bitter enemies with._

_Clark’s life seems to only grow more complicated with each passing year.  It’s growing more difficult for all of us to console him.  At this point, the person who is best at consoling Clark is Chloe.  I’m really proud of their relationship._

_Anyway, seeing how significant the caves were, I realized I had to do something about the plaza.  I told Lionel that we couldn’t build it there.  We could not demolish the caves.  Strangely, Lex was there to back me up.  Together we put up a very compelling argument, showing how the caves served as a culturally significant landmark to the town of Smallville._

_Lionel did not see the appeal in our side of the argument.  Then the strangest thing happened.  We were attacked by a white wolf.  I’ve never been so frightened.  Still, the wolf didn’t seem to be after me or Lex.  It was after Lionel.  Lex grabbed a gun and fired at the wolf at the same instant that Clark came bursting in.  The wolf went down and disappeared out the same window it came in._

_It wasn’t until the next day that I found out that the wolf was actually Kyla Willowbrook.  She was the protector from the legend.  It was sad to see her die the way she did.  It seemed that she even hoped she would be Clark’s soul mate from the cave paintings._

_I think I’m the only person that Clark has told about this, but Mr. Willowbrook gave Clark Kyla’s bracelet.  It’s a lovely bracelet.  Mr. Willowbrook said it was meant to be for Clark’s soul mate.  He plans on giving it to Chloe for Christmas.  I don’t know what to tell Clark at the moment, only that I hope that he follows his heart._

_So far it hasn’t led him astray._

 

Despite Diana’s kind attitude, Lucifer couldn’t overcome his embarrassment over his SUV.  It’s a nice vehicle with leather seats, not to mention the fact that it’s very fuel efficient, and decent surround sound, but it’s not a car to be driving a lovely woman around in. 

The whole ride to Metropolis, Diana talked up a storm about how she was introduced to the “world of men.”  Nearly a hundred years ago, at the height of the First World War, Diana was stepping away from a rather illuminating training session when she met Steve Trevor.  It was the first time she ever saw a man. 

Lucifer is sure that had to have been an interesting experience.  After spending her whole life up to that point only living among women—Lucifer would very much like to visit that place—and only knowing about men based off the books and scrolls she read, seeing a man in the flesh must have been like meeting an alien.  He couldn’t help laughing when she told him the first thing she said to the man was “You’re a man.”

Lucifer is sure that it was just as strange for Steve Trevor meeting a woman—actually _several_ women—who had never laid eyes on a man.  Oh, why didn’t Lucifer end up in that place—Themyscira—instead of Los Angeles?  Nothing but women, every night could have been spent teaching them just how essential men can be for bodily pleasure.  Lucifer isn’t even just a man.  He is an angel. 

Based on what Diana has told him, he would have been damn lucky if he managed to get an Amazon woman to go to bed with him.  They would have been more likely to put an arrow in him.  Weirdly, Lucifer sees a certain appeal in that.  It could have been an acquired fetish.  He can’t even stop thinking about all the ways he could tease a woman with the sharp end of an arrow.  All the ways a woman could tease him. 

So obvious were his imaginations that sometime during the commute to Metropolis, when they got close, Lucifer caught Diana staring at his groin.  His thoughts caused a serious erection.  For the first time in his life, he was embarrassed about an erection. 

It caused a rather uncomfortable silence between the two and they haven’t said a word to each other since. 

Following the street signs, Lucifer knows they are nearing their destination.  He has kept it to himself, but he hasn’t been to a five-star restaurant since his wife’s passing.  Sure, he’s taken his daughters to fancy places for special occasions, but no place where entrées can have three-figure prices on them.  He’s about as nervous as he was when he found himself waiting for Chloe at the end of the aisle.  That feels much longer ago than it actually was.

He finds the closest parking garage and he parks next to the curb.  He tosses the valet the keys and goes around the other side to help Diana out of the car.  Her hand against his feels very strange. It’s not a bad strange, but rather a tingling sensation that is making him want to smile.  It feels poetic to him.  She is only the second woman he has ever courted beyond the nightly hookup, and like Chloe Decker, she tried to kill him once. 

She didn’t mortally wound him, but still he can’t help seeing a pattern.  What does he love so much about women who come within an inch of killing him?  Does it just make them that more attractive?  That more enticing? 

Perhaps that’s the beauty of it.  It’s an answer that he’s still searching for.  Yes, that’s exactly what makes it so exciting.  He hates leaving things unanswered if he can help it and giving this product of idol worship a chance is his best chance of answering that question.

Standing outside now with the restaurant only a block away, Lucifer looks down at his date.  She’s a tall woman, but he’s a towering man.

“ _Care to join me_?” he asks in Ancient Greek.

“You don’t have to speak Greek in order to impress me, Lucifer,” laughs Diana in English as she wraps a warm hand around the crook of his arm.  Why did he think she was going to call him Samael?  It’s very intimate yes, almost to the point of being hurtful when voiced by the wrong person, but in that one moment, he thought she would say that name.

“No, I guess I don’t,” agrees Lucifer in English with a quiet chuckle.  “Now I am sure you are hungry.”  He wonders if this woman is a bottomless pit like his wife was.  He bets that she has an even bigger appetite.

Silently, they walk towards the restaurant.  It’s been a while since the devil had been to a five star restaurant.  It’s been even longer since he had had Greek food.  He’s going to have to look over a menu to refresh his memory on what he actually likes.  Perhaps Diana can offer some advice on what he should order.  Perhaps Greek food isn’t her preferred type of food.  If that turns out to be the case, what is her preferred ethnic food?  And why isn’t he voicing all of this?  One of his many vices, as Chloe always told him, was that he never shuts up about anything.

Maybe it’s simply the fact that he’s grown steadily quieter with each passing year since his wife’s death.  He loved talking around her.  These days, he worries that his humorous, if not irreverent exterior is little more than a façade. 

“It’s a lovely evening,” observes Diana, pulling Lucifer from his thoughts.

Lucifer takes a moment to gaze up at the sky, to feel the air around him, to see what’s around.  The sky is mostly clear, save for a smattering of clouds here and there.  One thing that he has come to enjoy living in Smallville is the lack of light pollution.  Here in Metropolis only a very few, if any stars manage to shine through the mess of lights.  The air around him is crisp and clings to his skin like a cold blanket that just won’t warm up with is body heat.  There’s also a light breeze that constantly bats at him like a gentle rake of a woman’s fingers all over his body. 

He’s tempted to make mention of it, but that same breeze plays with a loose strand of Diana’s hair.  Would it be so forward to reach out and tuck it behind her ear?  He has become steadily less impulsive with each passing year of living among his father’s treasured creatures.  Humankind has corrupted him, as Chloe and even Dr. Linda had told him teasingly so many times.

As for everything around him, the city of Metropolis is an interesting place.  It’s big enough that there are a number of good parts as well as bad parts.  This part of town seems to be one of the better parts.  Still, if Los Angeles had problems, Metropolis makes the City of Angels truly seem like a “city of angels.”  Next to Gotham on the East Coast, Metropolis has one of the worst crime rates in the entire country. 

Perhaps Metropolis could use its own caped crusader, or some kind of person who thinks every day is Halloween. 

Still, he can’t help noticing all the little things about Metropolis. 

“Yes,” he finally says in agreement.  “Yes, it is quite a lovely evening.  Ah, here we are.”  He glances upward at the sign outside their destination. 

The name of the restaurant translates to “Beauty below the Mediterranean.”

“Sounds a bit like a theme for a high school dance,” Lucifer mutters.

“Oh, you’d be surprised what beauty lies beneath the Mediterranean,” argues Diana sagely. 

Lucifer groans at her implications.  “Yes, I am sure there is more underneath the Mediterranean than more water and many shipwrecks.  What else is there?  Mermaids, sirens, horses, and Poseidon’s palace, I’m sure?”

Diana scowls up at him.  “Sirens live on an island.  Poseidon is dead.  Mermaids are promiscuous harlots who worm their way into the hearts of sailors.”

“And Amazons?” prompts Lucifer.  It’s a question that’s been on the tip of his tongue for quite some time.  “Are you a typical example of them, or is there more to say about them?”

Diana raises an eyebrow, seemingly appreciating his curiosity.  “How about we go inside and get seated and then I’ll answer your question?”

Lucifer offers a thoughtful glance.  “I’m sure that’s doable.”  He steps forward and opens the door.  “After you, my dear.”  He almost said _pagan_.  Whether Diana noticed the mild hesitance in his speech or not as she steps through the doorway, he cannot tell.  He likes to think that he has very little trouble reading people, but this woman is an exception.

The woman is an enigma.  After verifying their reservation with the receptionist, and being escorted to their table, and ordering a bottle of wine, they settle themselves.

“So what can you tell me about your people?” asks Lucifer as they look over their menus.  He figures he might need a little help deciding what to order.

“Where do I begin?” asks Diana, answering his question with one of her own.  “Until the day I met my love, Steve Trevor, I had never seen a man.  Growing up, I was the only child on an island made up of women.  We are warriors, artists, poets, and scribes.”

“Are they the fairest of all beings?” asks Lucifer as he settles on a meal.

Diana scoffs.  “We weren’t elves, Lucifer Morningstar.  I remember some of them to have been quite plain.”

“Did any of them have shortcomings, as in blindness, deafness, mental problems, or physical defects?”

“No, the Amazons were—are—divine; there were no imperfections.”

Lucifer grimaces.  “How utopian.”

Diana raises an eyebrow.  “According to the Bible, you were cast out of heaven because you had a plan that would have all of humankind righteous and without sin, thus leaving them without their freedom to choose.”

Lucifer shifts uncomfortably in his seat.  “The bible was written by man and has many inaccuracies of its own, despite its spiritual relevance.  As such, there was more to my being cast out than what any religious text has to say.  And if you don’t mind, I’d prefer we stay away from religious topics.”

“As you wish,” says Diana as their waiter comes with their bottle of wine.  The two of them take a moment to place their orders and get rid of their menus.  Once the waiter leaves again, they return their attention to each other.

“So, when you say the Amazons are warriors, are you like Spartans?” asks Lucifer as he pours them both a glass of wine.

Diana chuckles.  “No, the Amazons are not militaristic in any such fashion.  Some of the Amazons weren’t warriors at all.  In fact, my own mother forbade me from learning to be a warrior.”

Lucifer raises his eyebrows.  “Ah, a bit of a rebel, were you?  Or is it possible that your mother loved you to the point that she tried to keep you from becoming who you were meant to be?”  Judging by Diana’s uncomfortable silence and staring into her lap, Lucifer worries that he may have brought up a sensitive topic.

“I’m sure in the eyes of my mother my aunt and I were both rebels.  After all, we defied her with my training to be a warrior.  I will admit, I’ve harbored much resentment that she never told me who I was, but I know she loved me.”

Lucifer frowns.  “She never told you who you were?”

Diana smiles humorlessly.  “I was raised to believe that I was ‘sculpted from clay and that my mother begged Zeus to give me life’.  I’ve asked myself daily if I would have felt better or worse knowing that I was Zeus’ bastard daughter.”

“Is it something you’ve been able to forgive your mother for?” asks Lucifer, not unkindly.

“Some days I do, others I don’t,” replies Diana.  “I can never see my mother again unless she herself leaves Themyscira.  She’s the Queen of the Amazons; that’ll never happen.”

“Have the Amazons considered democracy over monarchy?”  It has worked for a number of nations, America being the least of them.  “Or are the Amazons ruled by some form of constitutional monarchy?”

“Hippolyta is the Queen of the Amazons, but she has a number of advisors.”

“Does she appoint them, or are they appointed by the people?”  Lucifer isn’t even sure if “people” is the best term in a place made up exclusively of women.  Not that they aren’t people.  He simply feels that the word implies people of all sex and age.    

“My mother appointed them.”  A soft chuckle escapes Diana’s lips.  “As I think of it, I truly wonder what my mother would have thought about democracy.  My best answer is that she is so revered that none of the people I grew up around would have considered a different option.”

“And what was Themyscira like?” asks Lucifer.

Diana smiles reminiscently.  “It was beautiful.  Many of the shores were dominated by sheer cliffs.  At night, the moon would shine upon the water, illuminating the caves with the loveliest of colors.  Every day was greeted by the rustle of trees and grass and you couldn’t help but climb to the highest peak in an effort to race the sunrise.  If we could help it, we left much of the land undisturbed, seldom cutting down trees.  The fields where we grew crops were like a blanket filling the earth with the patches of the finest quilt ever sewn.  It was paradise.”

Lucifer smiles at the images she fills his head with.  “It sounds like a very desirable place.  I can only imagine how unwelcome I would have been.”

Diana laughs and he can’t help but laugh with her.  “You would have been _very_ unwelcome, the fact that you’re a man being the least of them.”  Her laughter subsides long enough for a thoughtful look to spread across her features.  “I truly wonder what the Amazons would have thought of someone like you in their midst.”

“A devilishly handsome man?” asks Lucifer coyly.  “Pun perfectly intended?”

“Everything about you,” Diana clarifies. 

Their food arrives and Lucifer eyes his meal appreciatively. 

“Now, enough about me; tell me more about you,” Diana invites.

“What would you like to know?” asks Lucifer as he delves into his meal.  So far he’s enjoying this evening.  He’s even more interested to see how they will end it. 

***

 _You are not looking so well, dear Lana,_ mocks the voice of Isobel as Lana drives to the Queen house.  Isobel seems determined to make sure Lana doesn’t grow used to her presence in her head. 

True to Isobel’s words, however, Lana doesn’t look very well.  From the bags under her eyes, to her nails chewed down to their nubs, to some of the stress lines that have formed in her hair, Lana doesn’t look well.  Pete can be a real gentleman when he isn’t flaunting arrogance to show how cool he can be, but even he has started to notice. 

She likes spending time with Pete.  She gave up a long time ago on pursuing Clark Queen, but she gained a friend out of him.  That has to count for something, right?  After her failed relationship with Jason, she was in no mood for a relationship.

Somehow, Pete got her to reconsider.  They haven’t labeled each other as boyfriend and girlfriend yet, but they do almost everything a boyfriend and girlfriend would do together, minus sleeping together.  They hold hands, go on dates, and they have had at least a few steamy moments in not-so-very private places, such as empty classrooms as well as underneath the bleachers on the football field. 

It might have only been because Isobel wouldn’t shut up about it, but Lana has enjoyed growing closer to the Morningstars.  She’s not sure how she feels about Trixie’s relationship with Chloe for reasons that have nothing to do with sexual orientation, but she’s happy for the two of them. Weirdly enough, Lana thought at one point that Trixie would have asked Lois Lane out. 

She’s been wrong about things before. 

As for little Esther, or Emma as she’s commonly called, she’s an interesting little girl.  Isobel has been spewing nonsense for months about what possibilities Emma holds.  What possibilities would she have that make her stand out from every other little girl?  Either way, Isobel seems thoroughly convinced that Emma is the daughter of the devil himself. 

Lucifer Morningstar being the devil?  If Lucifer is the devil, then Clark Queen is an alien from outer space.  Why else would the adopted son of the Queens be so ridiculously attractive?  Lana has seen many strange things in Smallville, but for those to be true?  It’s impossible.

Lana is coming up on the Queen house now and Isobel finally shuts up.  She likes coming to this house when she has the opportunity.  Clark and Oliver Queen can be quite fun to be around.  Of course, Clark is off on a double date with his girlfriend, Lois Lane, and Chloe and Trixie.

 _Is Lois Lane Clark’s girlfriend?_ Lana wonders silently.  The past few weeks, no one has seen them together.  One time she asked Clark about Lois, and he was very monosyllabic about it, saying that they are “taking some time to think.”  Whatever the hell that means.

Lana can bet her car that the two of them haven’t even slept together yet.  Then again, Clark Queen seems like the kind of guy who eases into a relationship, never being in a hurry to get physically intimate.  She likes that about him. 

She parks her car just outside the garage.  She regards that garage thoughtfully.  A few times, she had been up in the loft which in stark contrast to the garage below it, is more of a fancy playroom. 

One of the garage doors is open and she sees Oliver inside.  As she steps out of her car, Oliver turns around. 

“Hey, Lana,” he greets enthusiastically.  “I’ve been kicked out of my own house.”

Lana frowns playfully.  “Why’s that?”

Oliver grumbles as he wipes his hands with a towel.  If age difference weren’t an issue, Lana would be more tempted to run her hands over those toned muscles strained against his sleeveless undershirt.  Wait, she dated Jason Teague; who is she to be thinking about age difference? 

“Girl stuff,” he finally replies.  Little Emma Morningstar and my girlfriend wanted to decorate each other’s hair.  They might as well be having a slumber party and they wanted to make me ‘beautiful’.”

Lana cocks her head.  “Beautiful?”

“Emma wanted to practice her makeup skills on me,” Oliver clarifies fearfully. 

Lana giggles before she can stop herself.  “So your solution was to hide out in the garage tinkering with your motorcycle?”

Oliver shrugs.  “The steering axel needed polished.”

Lana nods dubiously.  “I’m sure.  I’ll make you a deal.”

Oliver raises his eyebrows expectantly. 

“Let Emma use your face to play with makeup and I promise that Clark will know nothing about it.”

“What about Tess and Emma?”

Lana scoffs.  “You’re the one who called it a ‘slumber party’.  What happens at slumber parties stays at slumber parties.”

Oliver gives her a long hard look as he finishes cleaning off his hands.  Finally, he sighs.  “Fine.”  He walks past her towards the house and motions her to follow him.  About halfway to the door, he stops suddenly. 

“What’s the matter?” asks Lana.

“There’s a board game I wanted to grab that’s up in the loft,” replies Oliver.

“I can get it,” offers Lana.

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay, it’s the monopoly game in the closet.  It’s hard to miss.”

“I’ll be right in.”  With that, Lana goes back towards the garage, towards the stairs leading up to the loft.  When she ascends the stairs, she flips on the light switch.  She doesn’t take any time to stop and admire the place.  It’s a nice loft and the Queens seem to keep it really clean.  The couches and armchairs look quite inviting, but Lana can’t let herself get distracted.

She walks over to the closet and opens it.  After switching on that light, she scans everything in it until she finds the monopoly box.  It’s under a few things.  Carefully, she starts removing some of the things that are on top of it.  One of which is a lead box.  Lana looks it over thoughtfully.  It looks very similar to a box that once contained her meteor rock necklace. 

Unable to sustain her curiosity, she opens it.  Within is a shiny black rock.  Is it a meteor rock?  As she takes it out and looks it over, she feels the presence of Isobel mulling it over as well as she is.  She stands up, but as she does, she misses a steps and trips over a magic eight ball.  With a yelp, she goes down, but not before losing her grip on the rock.

The rock lands on her chest and then everything goes white in sensations that Lana isn’t sure how to describe other than being ripped apart.  When her eyes clear, she blinks several times. 

What is she staring at?  She doesn’t remember there being a mirror in this closet.  So why is she staring up at some version of herself that is wearing the same black shirt and dark denims as she is?  And why is this version of her touching herself as if feeling herself for the first time?

Eventually that version of Lana looks her directly in the eye.  Comprehension dawns on Lana. 

“Isobel,” she whispers in disbelief.

Isobel smiles down at her.  “Curious isn’t it?  I know not what has happened any more you do, dear Lana.  It would seem I am finally free from that miserable head of yours.”  She bends down a little and Lana throws her hands up, shielding herself.  Isobel grabs her wrists and holds them still with tremendous ease.  She gives Lana a thoughtful look.

“I could kill you right now and I wouldn’t bat an eyelash,” sneers Isobel.  “But I don’t know what will happen to me if you die.”  Then everything goes purple and Lana feels her whole body tighten as if being squeezed through a narrow tube.  When it’s over, Lana blinks her eyes and finds herself in an empty warehouse with her wrists bound behind her around a pillar. 

“You can’t do this!” screams Lana as she struggles against her restraints. 

Isobel cackles as she looms over her.  “Watch me, dear child.  Now I’d love to just stand here and watch you struggle, but Mr. Queen and the daughter of Satan expect my presence.  _Au revoir_ , Lana.”  With that, Isobel disappears in a cloud of purple smoke.

Lana stares in disbelief for a minute or two, but then, as loudly as her lungs can allow her, she screams, “ _HELP ME_!”      


	50. Chapter Forty-Nine

_January 29 th, 2003_

_The holidays were great.  We didn’t get much snow, but it takes quite a bit more than a lack of snow to lower everyone’s spirits.  Clark’s piano skills have been improving greatly and the way he filled the house with Christmas carols, suddenly all those silly songs that we’ve heard on the radio way too many times actually had some originality.  One or two of them, Laura and Chloe sat atop the piano and sang duets in cue to Clark’s piano playing._

_It was truly a lovely sight.  If only Ollie were here to have seen it.  Would he have found it strange, or even awkward seeing his mother sing?  She is actually a beautiful singer.  She’s not going to be winning any Grammys or Tony Awards any time soon, but she’s good enough that people don’t stand around waiting in vain for her to shut up._

_This has been a strange month so far.  Whitney Fordman returned from overseas, but it turned out that it was actually that young lady from the year before who could morph into another person.  Posing as young Whitney (who tragically died in combat), she tried to get Lana Lang to run away with her.  Too much has happened to that young lady.  In fact, she and Clark have been bonding over that similar quality.  They seem to turning into good friends._

_It’s quite a development after so many years of Miss Lang harboring a crush on Clark._

_Most upsetting for my family is that Martha and Jonathan seem to be having marital troubles.  We love spending time with them, Clark still works for them, and we have dinner with them every week.  It all started when Martha started working for Lionel._

_I have to be honest; I’m with Jonathan in my lack of enthusiasm for that development.  I’m happy for her in the sense that Lionel is paying her a lucrative salary, but I’m uncomfortable with how he is unsubtly attracted to her.  I don’t know if Martha realizes it, and Jonathan is justifiably a jealous husband, but I know Lionel._

_That bastard is just slowly working his way into Martha’s head.  It’s like a marathon for him.  It’s a courtship that to the untrained eye is anything but a courtship in its early stages.  Assuming things go Lionel’s way, he will play his game until_ Martha _comes to_ him _._

_I’m not worried, but it hurts to see Martha and Jonathan fighting so much._

_Things aren’t easy between Laura and I either.  Things with the company, as well as with my joint company with Lionel, are tense.  Profits are great, but I’m starting to notice something with our finances. There are considerable funds going to places that I can’t find the names of.  The company isn’t losing money at any alarming rate, but at the same time, profits aren’t rising as fast as they should.  I’m getting the feeling that funds are being siphoned out of the company._

_If that’s the case, where are those funds going?  And why was Lionel so tightlipped about it when I brought up the issue with him?_

_I worry I might have to conduct my own investigations.  I hate myself for it, but I might even have to keep it as secret as possible.  Not even my family can know._

Lois has to say, she appreciates Chloe’s choice of venue for their double date with Trixie and Clark.  More accurately, Chloe says it was _Clark’s_ idea. 

Lois really enjoys bowling.  Even to save her pride, Lois wouldn’t say she’s great at it.  It’s all probably just her overly competitive attitude.  Halfway into her game, she has managed not to get a gutter ball, but she finds herself lucky if she can manage a spare. 

Having been teamed up with Clark, Lois isn’t completely a hopeless case.  Knowing what she knows about him, Lois is amazed that he is able to bowl without sending the bowling ball right through the wall.  Logic tells her that he has probably had his whole life to learn to control the amount of strength he exerts.  Otherwise, she is sure that she would probably be dead by now from a number of hugs that were too tight. 

It’s her turn now and Lois studies the bowling pins contemptuously.  She’s determined to knock down those pins.  She will knock them down if it’s the last thing she does. 

“Come on, Lo, we haven’t got all night,” taunts Chloe in a singsong voice. 

Lois is a little hurt upon hearing Clark stifle a chuckle or two. 

“Chloe, be nice,” he scolds playfully, which makes Lois feel a little better.  “Not everyone spent half their childhood bowling with each other like you and I did.”

“Well, it’s kind of hard when you make it look so easy!” snaps Lois, turning around. 

Clark eyes her and Lois feels herself tense up.  It’s the first complete sentence she has spoken to him since they got together this evening.  When she did see him, he looked quite happy to see her.  He has kept a respectable distance, which Lois is thankful for.  He must be waiting for her to come to him. 

Usually, she thinks it’s more attractive when a guy is bolder.  She has known Clark long enough that him keeping his distance has nothing to do with timidity.  He’s the rare exception that is making her enjoy someone who is more subtle.  He does something polite here and there, offering that painfully beautiful smile, complimenting her even though she feels far from worthy of it…Chloe is right about him.

Clark Queen is probably the best guy she will ever meet.  He’s not perfect, but he does his best to show the best version of himself.  She still doesn’t think she is worthy of him and if only she could tell the one person she loves the most in the world why.  How would Chloe react?

“Lois?”

Lois snaps to attention and sees Clark staring at her worriedly. 

“Did you hear what I asked?” he asks.

“What?” Lois grunts stupidly.

Clark chuckles lightly as Chloe and Trixie cover their mouths to hide their giggles. 

“I said, ‘Do you want me to help show you how to get a strike’?” Clark repeats slowly.

Lois blushes furiously.  Subtly, she looks beyond Clark and Chloe winks at her.  Returning her gaze to Clark, she shrugs.  “Sure, why not?”

Clark smiles brightly and steps toward her.  “Well first, your stance is lousy.”

“Gee, thanks, Smallville,” Lois snaps indignantly.

“Shut up and listen,” Clark orders.

Lois obeys, feeling like a submissive puppy. 

“What you need to go, Lois is you need to curve your waist, like so,” before Lois can react, Clark’s huge hands are on her.  For a second she forgets to breathe.  Then she allows Clark to position her body.  “And you need to balance your feet.”  Lois looks down at Clark’s feet and tries to mimic his stance.  One of his hands leaves her waist and suddenly her body feels oddly empty.  However, that hand soon covers the back of her hand that is gripping the bowling ball. 

“Also, what you need to do is release the ball at exactly the right time so that it doesn’t bounce halfway down the lane,” Clark continues, his breath hot in her ear.  “Now I’m going to help you with this one strike and then you’re on your own, you understand?”

Lois nods softly.  Then she surrenders herself to Clark’s motions as he guides her own backward in a swing.  Her eyes are on the pins and as Clark brings her arm forward again, he says,

“Release.”

Lois lets go off the ball and it thuds against the lane without the slightest bounce.  She watches the bowling ball roll carefully down along the middle of the lane.  She inhales deeply as the ball gets closer and closer to the pins.  The ball hits the pins and they all go down!  As they go down, Lois lets out a very un-Lois-like squeal.

“Don’t get cocky,” Clark warns her even as he smiles.  “We still have half a game to play.”

Lois looks back at her beloved cousin and she can’t decide who looks more competitive.  This means war. 

The next half of the game, Lois does not get a strike, but utilizing the technique Clark so intimately showed her, she feels all the more confident.  The score between her team and Chloe’s team are actually quite even.  Clark and Chloe are great.  Lois and Trixie are dreadful.  Still, Lois manages to score a few spares.

It’s not much, but it’s enough to make her feel like she’s on top of the world.  One spare puts her in such a mood that she attempts a moonwalk.  It’s one thing that she can do without mishap.  Besides Whitesnake and most other hair metal bands, Michael Jackson is a guilty pleasure of hers. 

When the game is over, Lois thinks that the smile on her face can’t be removed.  That is, until she remembers that she’s with Clark.  She does her best to keep herself from looking sad.  She needs to talk to him. 

“Hey, Clark can we talk outside for a minute?” she asks.

Clark, who is in the process of removing his bowling shoes looks up at her brightly.  “Yeah, sure,” he replies. 

Chloe, who must have overheard, says, “We’ll meet you back at the Talon.”

After returning their bowling equipment, Lois steps outside into the crisp night air with Clark.  She wraps her hand around his elbow.  He seems surprised at first by the gesture, but soon she feels the surprised tension soften a bit. 

“I’m really glad you came out tonight, Lois,” Clark says.

Lois smiles softly.  “Yeah, I am too.”

“So which one of us is going to address the elephant in the room?”

Way to get right to the point.  “So, you’re an intergalactic traveler,” Lois sums up.

Clark chuckles lightly.  “I was surprised too when I found out.”

Lois gapes.  “Wait, you’re telling me you didn’t always know about your…heritage?”

“I knew I was different, but I didn’t realize just how different until I was about thirteen.”

“I know you said you were surprised, but how did you take it?” Lois makes a mental note to sound conversational and not interrogational.

Clark inhales shakily.  Lois suspects that she might have touched a sensitive topic.  “It was right after my brother’s disappearance.  In his misery, my dad started drinking heavily.  In one of his drunken stupors, he said I was ‘the little alien he found in a cornfield’.”  Clark pauses long enough to lock eyes with Lois.  Lois doesn’t know what to say.  “Of all things that I could have heard, I never would have thought that I wasn’t even from Earth.  I spent hours standing in front of a mirror, looking for anything that would show that I was indeed alien.  I even thought at one point as I hit puberty that something inhuman about me would develop.  Long story short, I was scared to death.”

“How do you feel about it now?” asks Lois.

Clark smiles a little.  “I pretty much feel how I’ve always felt.”

“And how’s that?”

By now they have reached Clark’s Cadillac and they lean against the rear of it.  “I feel like a bird in a cage.”

Lois cocks her head. 

Clark sighs heavily.  “You ever get that feeling when you look at a bird at the zoo, or somebody’s pet bird in its cage, like they just shouldn’t be cooped up?  And when you hear them sing, you somehow hear a desperate plea for freedom, to fly as far as their wings will allow?”

“Are you saying you don’t feel free?” asks Lois.  How can he be worried about such a thing?  He’s strong enough that he could break through any cage…or can’t he?

“Lois, I can fly, I can lift this car with you on it over my head, and I can run somebody to the hospital before an ambulance is even on its way…but I can’t.”  Lois watches him carefully as he speaks.  Right up until he uttered the words _but I can’t_ , he was smiling.  He even seemed happy.  Now his expression is dark and stormy with something that Lois can’t tell whether it’s fury or deep sadness.  He looks her directly in the eye.  “Lois, I have all these weird abilities, and there’s only too much good I can do with them, but I can’t because if I did…” he leaves the sentence hanging.

“People would react about the same way I did, if not worse,” she sums up quietly. 

Clark’s expression doesn’t chance.  “That’s why I feel like I’m in a cage.  That’s why I hide my abilities.  Sometimes I still have nightmares that I am on an operating table and there are people looming over me, just talking about me like I am a science project.  Sometimes in those dreams, I see the people I love being taken away or killed because they ‘hid me from the world’ and I’m unable to do anything to stop it. 

“I can remember one time growing up, I was forced to let some poor guy bleed out to death because at the time, I couldn’t fly and I could barely run extremely fast while carrying something without running into something else.  That man died and left behind two children and a wife who was expecting his third.”

Lois can’t even begin to imagine how that felt for Clark, knowing that he could have done something but unable to do so inconspicuously.  She’s not even sure if saying she’s sorry would help alleviate some of those feelings.    

“Have you ever wished you were normal?” she asks. 

Clark chuckles mirthlessly.  “Not really.  All I’ve ever wanted in my life was to be what am, do what I can do, and not be seen as a monster, to not end up being locked away and reduced to some experiment.”

“Clark, you can’t control what others think,” she reminds him wisely.  She’s also quite certain that she’s not the first person to utter those words to him. 

“I know,” Clark assures her gruffly.  “But how many ‘monsters’ out there have people would go to any length to either get them under their control or reduce them to a lab rat?”

Lois doesn’t answer immediately.  Actually the question frightens her.  She doesn’t even know which of those her father would do.  Would her father try to turn him into a living weapon?  Would he turn Clark into a lab rat and figure out some way that soldiers could have similar abilities as him?  Why does Lois even have _that_ idea rolling around in her head?  Worse yet, what would everyone do to her if or when they find out her reluctant involvement in it?

“Point taken,” she finally says.  “Maybe you could wear a mask?”

Clark scowls at her.  “I don’t wear masks and I’m definitely not a superhero.”

Lois scoffs.  “I don’t know.”  The way Chloe talks about him, and the way Lois has heard him talk in the last several minutes, she would very much beg to differ. 

Maybe a mask would be a bit much, but at least something that he could wear that would hide his identity.  Maybe he could wear something similar to that “Green Arrow” that the papers have said there have been sightings of.  Lois’ investigative mind wonders if there’s a connection between that Green Arrow dude and Wonder Woman, who has also been showing her face around Metropolis lately. 

“I’m sorry that I freaked you out so hard.”

Lois’s thoughts cease and she looks back up at Clark.  “Why are _you_ sorry?” she asks incredulously.  “You’re not the one who freaked out.”

“No I wasn’t,” Clark agrees.  “Though, I was the only who freaked you out.  I can’t say that I was surprised by the way you reacted, but I do think that there was more to your reaction than just finding out all those things about me.”

Lois’ mouth dries up and all color drains from her face.  She imagines that her face might as well look as pale as a cadaver.  “What?”

“Listen, I don’t know you terribly well, but I think I’m beginning to know you well enough.”  Clark is so gentle, so friendly, that it’s breaking Lois’ heart.  “I think that there’s something else going on that you’re not telling me.”

For once, Lois wishes Clark wasn’t so astute.  She takes a really deep breath and steps in front of him.  “You’re right Clark; there is something that is on my mind.”  Clark straightens up, preparing himself for what she has to say.  Lois worries that this is a horrible time to confess what she has to confess.  Their relationship, if it can even be called a relationship, is sort of in limbo at the moment.  It has her insides twisting up in knots, but she figures that there will never be a good time for her to say what she has to say.

She says it as bluntly as she can.  “I’ve been spying on you, Clark Queen.”

Clark stares at her for several minutes.  “You’ve been spying on me?”

Lois nods sadly, but jumps as Clark bursts out laughing.  “What are you laughing about?”

Clark covers his mouth as he tries to stifle some of his laughter.  “I’m sorry Lois, it’s just I didn’t peg you for the insecure girlfriend.  Would it make you feel better if I were to quit talking to other girls?”

Lois rolls her eyes.  He thinks she’s confessing to being a jealous girlfriend who stalks her boyfriend!  If only the _stalker_ part of it weren’t true.  “No, Clark, that’s not what I’m confessing to at all.”

Clark’s laughing subsides and he quirks an eyebrow.  “Oh, then what are you trying to tell me?” now Lois is starting to hear an uneasy note in his voice.  “Lois, what is it?”

Tears blur Lois’ vision as she shakes her head.  “My-father-forced-me-to-spy-on-you-and-your-brother-months-ago!” she blurts out at high speed.”

Clark stares at her for several minutes.  “Say that a bit slower, please?” he bids quietly.

The tears have broken loose and Lois has never felt more vulnerable.  She hates crying in front of people.  “Not long after I started hanging out with you and your brother, my dad confronted me.  I thought he was just being his usual dickish, annoying, paranoid self.  He threatened me with basic training ten times worse than the average recruit if I didn’t ‘investigate’ you and your brother.  I swear to God, Clark, I haven’t told him anything that he couldn’t have found out on the internet, or from an old tabloid, or newspaper clipping.  I’ve repeated told him to go to hell.”  She steps a little closer to him and tries to reach out to touch him.  Clark does nothing at the touch of her hand upon his.  If she didn’t know any better, he might not even realize that she is touching him.

She wishes she could read Clark’s expression.  Maybe it’s the low light from the sparsely lit parking lot, or maybe it’s just that she can’t really put a word to what’s going on with his face?  Either way, the gears must be all over the place in his head, trying to make sense of what Lois is confessing. 

“So, Lois Lane,” he begins quietly.  “Do you mean to tell me that your sudden interest me, our relationship, has all been a _lie_?”

Lois opens her mouth, but no sound escapes her lips.  The word hits her with the force of a freight train.  All of her guilt, hatred, and disgust with herself could not have been summed up in a better or simpler word. 

“What is it with people?” Clark cries, throwing up his hands. 

Lois cocks her head.  “What?”

“Do I give off some sort of pheromone that leaves everyone around me with an uncontrollable urge to investigate me?” Clark demands.  “Why can’t I just live in privacy without finding out that somebody I consider a friend is investigating me?”

Lois raises an eyebrow.  “Wait, what are you talking about?”

Clark stops dead in his tracks and focuses his gaze on her so hard, that Lois worries he will incinerate her.  “Last year, I find out that Chloe was investigating me under the orders of Lionel Luthor, who offered to be her benefactor at the Daily Planet after my dad died.  She told me that it was the last thing she wanted to do and that she was deeply sorry, not unlike what you are doing right now.”

“And you’re still friends with her,” Lois finishes, feeling a little more confidant.  Clark’s eyes darken with fury and Lois feels that it might have been the wrong thing to say.  Before she can comprehend what has happened, Clark is only inches from her face. 

“Yes, Lois Lane,” whispers Clark.  “I am still friends with Chloe Sullivan.  And I am imagining you expect something similar to happen to you?”  A very ugly, un-Clark-like laugh escapes Clark’s lips.  “I’ve known Chloe half my life, so I was more than willing to give her the benefit of the doubt and hear her out.  You on the other hand, I met this past August.  Things between you and I have happened so fast and now you’re telling me that you have been investigating me behind my back. 

“I am truly sorry that you have such a terrible father, but you could have said something!”

“I just did,” Lois chokes out.

“After you’ve sat at my dinner table, called me friend, dated me, kissed me, and called me boyfriend,” Clark sums up.  He backs away and rakes his fingers through his hair.  Eventually, he fixes his gaze on her again.  “My point is, you have had _so many_ opportunities to tell me what was going on and I would have done something to help your situation.  But you never did.  So tell me, Lois Lane, can you look me in the eye and tell me that not one part of you was curious?  Can you look me in the eye and tell me that a part of you wasn’t interested in seeing what could possibly have your father—a three star general—suspicious of a twice-orphaned teenager and his long-lost brother?”

Lois fights to keep her eyes on his, but the piercing gaze of his blue eyes might as well be a serrated knife, dissecting her and leaving every ugly part of her bare for the world to see.   He’s right, she hates to admit.  While she loves her friendship with the Queen boys, feeling like they are the brothers she never had, she was curious.  She tries to think about what she would say if she were writing something.  It’s a lot easier to do when she’s sitting in front of a computer.  Then again, she’s a terribly speller.  What does that say about saying what she needs to say?

Her silence seems to be enough answer for Clark. 

“Just as I thought,” he whispers sadly. 

“I love you,” Lois blurts out. 

Clark hesitates for a moment, but his contemptuous glance returns not long after.  “That’s nice, but there are two reasons why I’m having trouble with that sentence.”  He raises two fingers and lists them off.  “One, because not long ago I revealed my abilities to you, so I can’t tell if you love me for the person I am or for the fact that all of the sudden I am your own person extra-terrestrial.  Two, because you just revealed that you’ve been lying to me for about as long as I’ve known you.”

He shakes his head.  “I liked hanging out with you.  You infuriate me more than anyone and yet sometimes it feels like my week is incomplete without you making me want to tear my hair out.  You are that chatterbox that I love to tell to shut up.  I never thought you’d be the reluctant whore forced to spy on her friends, yet too afraid or too curious to tell the truth and just maybe they would have helped.”

Lois winces.  Clark Queen seldom swears or uses hurtful words.  The word has been thrown around in her direction more than once growing up, hardly ever being used in its literal context, but coming from Clark?  It would have felt better if he sliced off her hand with a spoon.  He probably could. 

Clark exhales heavily.  He rises to his full height and his voice turns very soft.  “Are you absolutely positive that your dad knows nothing about my abilities?”

“I swear on my mother’s grave,” Lois promises.

Clark nods carefully.  “I’m going to take a huge leap of faith and believe you.”  He exhales again.  “Like I said, I’m sorry you have such a terrible father.  Now I am going to drive you back to campus, and then I think it will be best if we don’t see each other for a while.  For now, you are no longer welcome in my house or my life.”

Lois doesn’t say a word as she nods softly.  They get into the car and the only sound on the way back to Metropolis is the hum of the car.  She would really like to crank up the radio, but she’s known Clark long enough to tell when he wants silence. 

She counts the minutes as the city grows closer, as the high-rising buildings she has come to love so much loom over her, reminding how small she it compared to them.  MetU is made obvious, not just by the flock of people her age and late-night partygoers, but also the colossal stadium that is the home of the Metropolis Sharks. 

No words are exchanged between her in Clark as he pulls up alongside her dorm.  As Lois gets out of the car, she turns around to wave a goodbye, but Clark is already driving down the road.  Should she count the days until she sees him again?  No doubt, Chloe will grill her as to why she and Clark aren’t speaking or seeing each other.  It’s difficult, but clearly not impossible to lie to her beloved cousin. 

As Lois heads back up to her dorm, her cheeks crack with her dried tears, only to be moistened by fresh ones.  Although, strangely she is not as sad as she thinks she should be.  She feels wretched knowing the pain she has caused Clark, but she also feels…light.  The weight of her lies is gone.  She’s finally rid herself of the poison that has festered and metastasized with each passing month. 

 “Fuck you, Daddy,” she says to herself.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure many of you were wondering when the whole matter of Lois reluctantly spying on Clark and Oliver for her father would be addressed. I spent a lot of time thinking about how this moment would go down between Clark and Lois. Maybe this Clark is a little less forgiving than Clark Kent, but I couldn’t picture him being less than hurt. 
> 
> Let me know what you all think!
> 
> Oh, and Happy Mothers Day weekend to all the mothers out there


	51. Chapter Fifty

_February 5 th, 2003_

_Poor Jonathan.  My good friend has had plenty of bad days.  Bad days for him are when he has a bad crop.  Bad days for him are when he can’t get his tractor to work.  Bad days for him are when he doesn’t get a desired profit out of his produce.  I always buy his produce.  Organic produce is an acquired taste, but I really like it.  Bad days for him are when he and Martha have an argument that leaves them both seething for more than a day at a time._

_This past week, Jonathan has had probably some of the worst days of his life.  I wish I could put into words the collective shock my family felt when Martha showed up on our doorstep, tearfully telling us that Jonathan had been arrested.  Jonathan arrested!  That just doesn’t happen!  And he was arrested on not just a DUI, but under suspicion of having shot Lionel._

_That was simply preposterous.  Asking Laura and Clark—especially Clark—to stay home, I went with Martha to go visit Jonathan at the police station.  Jonathan looked terrible.  Seeing him in that orange jumpsuit, unshaven, he just looked pitiful.  There had to be some mistake.  Jonathan said he had half a beer before he went home, but something must have been wrong because he felt sick and passed out.  The next thing he knew, he was waking up not far from the Luthor mansion, groggy and with a gun in his hand._

_I promised him and Martha that I would help get to the bottom of this mess.  Jonathan tried to decline my help, but when Martha and I left the station, Martha pled that I do what I can.  As if she had to ask.  Soon as I was home, I called a private investigator I knew.  Not unsurprisingly, Clark was conducting his own investigation with the help of Chloe._

_I swear those two can never stay away from anything fishy going on in Smallville.  They could easily become detectives one day.  However, I don’t think either of them have any interest in law enforcement.  Chloe is set on being a Nelly Bly-like investigative journalist and nothing is going to stop her from achieving that if she can help it.  Clark?  He’s a more complicated story.  I don’t think he knows what he wants to do.  I won’t force it on him, but the company is his one day if he so chooses.  I also picture him putting his powers to good use._

_How will he do that and not have people know him as Clark Queen.  Should he dress “like some Spartan harlot” as Laura describes Wonder Woman?  I’ve mentioned the idea to Diana once or twice and it’s become a bit of an inside joke between us.  Clark dressed as Wonder Woman.  It might even be more entertaining than seeing football players dress up as cheerleaders during a powder-puff game._

_Anyway, through the help of my PI, and more so Clark’s own investigation, it turns out—thankfully—that Jonathan was innocent.  That doesn’t mean that the true culprit wasn’t any less shocking.  It was Sheriff Ethan.  I guess the sheriff was one of the people who had fallen victim to Lionel’s love of blackmail.  He just snapped and shot Lionel.  He and Jonathan were childhood friends, but I guess the sheriff must have been too far gone.  What kind of friend frames you for something as serious as attempted murder?_

_Everything worked out, thankfully, and Jonathan was released from custody, all charges dropped.  So, yes Jonathan has had a colossal bad day.  I wanted to give him a nice “welcome home” dinner, but I completely understood when he opted for simply having a quiet evening with his wife._

_Meanwhile, I haven’t found anything concrete regarding where Lionel is pouring money into.  In an effort to broaden the range, see what else is going on, I’ve noticed that a number of known meteor freaks are disappearing.  In fact, many of the meteor freaks that Clark has helped put into places like Belle Reeve, have disappeared.  Being a central person in those people being placed there rather than prison, I tried to see what might have happened to them._

_Officially, each and every one of them has been released, but none of them have been seen since.  Is someone systematically making these people disappear?  Are they being killed?  Are they simply being captured?  If captured, what purpose do they serve?  What is their captor’s intent?_

_I worry I might be on my own with this one._

 

Clark is more than halfway home when he remembers to breathe.  He might be immune to many human shortcomings, but he does need oxygen.  Considering the fact that the sun acts as a constant source for him to replenish his strength, for a while growing up, when Clark was still unsure exactly what he was, it was an inside joke between him and Oliver that he was part plant.  One time, he even let Oliver talk him into gluing flower pedals to his skin.  About half his torso was covered in rose pedals before their mother caught them. 

In spite of everything, Clark smiles at the memory.  Their mother stared at them for about a minute or two before she shook her head and walked on muttering, “What am I going to do with these boys?”

Clark wishes he could go back to that time when things were so much simpler.  Perhaps they were never simple, so maybe just to a time when things _felt_ simpler. 

Now is one of those times when he would really like the council of his parents.  Well, there’s that bodiless entity of a father up in the Arctic, but that’s an AI.  It’s a highly intelligent AI, but how much can a computerized version of his birth father really evolve?  What would Jor-El say about a woman who has been spying on him for months, if only reluctantly?

His parents…they might take pity on her situation, but no doubt they would have filed a restraining order.  Hell, they might have even buried Sam Lane in a lawsuit.  Clark does have the resources to end even a respected general like Sam Lane, but it’s the publicity that worries him.

With the exception of his brother and best friend, Clark is pretty much left to his own devices.  He very much wants to give Lois the benefit of the doubt, but he can’t ignore the idea that she worked her way into a relationship with him because an order from her father made her curious, even if only partly. 

About ten minutes into Clark’s trip home, he found himself heavily tempted to go to whichever Army base General Lane is stationed and wreak all kinds of havoc before anyone had any idea what happened.  He’s plenty fast that radar wouldn’t be able to pick him up.

No, even if Lois swore to him that her father didn’t know his secret—which he’s quite dubious about—it would look too suspicious.

The only thing that he is sure of is that Chloe had no idea of Lois’ duplicity.  At this moment, the only thing that is making him even crack a smile is the idea of Chloe finding out and her confronting Lois about it.  No doubt Chloe would be furious. 

There’s another thing.  Clark thought he was over this, having not thought about it in weeks, but once again he can’t help comparing Chloe and Lois.  In some ways, he likes Lois better than Chloe.  In when it infuriated him, he likes how easily Lois riled him up.  Not to say that Chloe never riled him up or teased him, Lois just did it like it was second nature to her.  It’s something he had come to expect from her.  What he had spent years developing with Chloe happened much faster with Lois.  In some ways, he wishes things had happened a lot slower between them.  Upon Lois reveal, everything that he had been building with her came crashing down atop a house of cards for a foundation. 

It’s a house of cards that had such a disguise of something considerably stronger, that even Clark was fooled.  Had their relationship developed slower, to something as strong as his bond with Chloe, this betrayal wouldn’t have been so devastating.  It would still have left him as brokenhearted as he feels now, but at least he wouldn’t have been left feeling like he had to start from scratch. 

Does he want to start over with Lois?  Does he want to give her another chance?  He can’t deny enjoying having her around, but what if his heart is broken again?  Who will save him from a second blow as big as this one?

Clark continues his long train of thought all the way home.  Checking the time on his watch, he sees that he’s home sooner than he said he would be.  That alone would get Oliver asking questions.

Clark wants to try and avoid a conversation.  As he parks his car in the garage, his ears pick up something.  He’s not focusing his superhearing, but he doesn’t think that he needs to for this. 

“Oh, God, Ollie did you get out Mom’s old karaoke machine?” he asks out loud.  Their mother loved karaoke and she no shame about it.  Worse yet was when she made him, Oliver, and their father join her in harmony when she wanted to sing a Beatles song.  The biggest irony of it all was that their mother hated the Beatles.

Clark walks toward the house and he can tell that the music is turned up quite loud.  He reaches the front door and opens it cautiously.  Immediately, he is welcomed by what feels like an indoor heavy metal concert.  He gazes around.  The house seems normal.  Then he sees Tess coming towards him.  She’s dressed in a purple silk night shirt and pants with her hair tied up loosely. 

“Tess, what’s going on?” he asks her.

She grimaces and Clark barely has time to react as she grabs his wrist and drags him towards the living room.  What Clark sees makes him roll his eyes. 

Dancing around like a lunatic on stage with his shirt missing, Oliver sings into the wireless microphone. In fact, when Clark stepped in was when Oliver started singing the chorus to “Highway to Hell” by AC/DC, poorly mimicking the shrieks of Bon Scott.  By the slur of his speech, he sounds a drunk.

“How long has this been going on?” Clark asks over the loud music. 

“I don’t know!” Tess shouts back.  “I think it’s gotten steadily worse since Mr. Morningstar left with Diana.  I tried to get him away from the machine, but it’s like he’s one a…hell marathon.”

“What?”

“‘Highway to Hell’, ‘Sympathy for the Devil’, ‘Hell’s Bells’, everything Black Sabbath, he even tried to include some really awful music by some Norwegian band called Gorgoroth,” explains Tess.

“Gorgoroth as in the plains of Mordor in _Lord of the Rings_?” asks Clark, dumbfounded.  That’s all he can think of. 

“I haven’t read those books since I was twelve, but yes,” replies Tess.  “I don’t even know how Oliver discovered the band.  I think it was from an internet search I saw him doing a few hours ago.”  As she speaks, Oliver bumps into the coffee table and knocks over a large bowl of popcorn that his audience of Lana and Emma were picking from. 

“Oops, cleanup on deck!” slurs Oliver. 

Clark exchanges glances with Tess.  He sighs heavily.  “I’ll take care of this; you go fill his bathtub with water.  Make it cold.”

Tess immediately leaves the living room and rushes up the stairs.  Clark feels the wary eyes of Lana and Emma on him as he carefully makes his way towards his brother.  There’s something a little off about Lana.  Did she get new makeup?  Does she have new contacts?  He will save that curiosity for another time.  He reaches the karaoke machine before he reaches his brother.  Something tells him that one of these young ladies tried to do the same, but it might have been met by Oliver’s temper. 

Clark is more durable and he thinks he can say that without sounding misogynistic.  He finds surreptitiously finds the plug to the karaoke machine and gives it a tug.  It comes out of the outlet and the music turns off immediately.  It takes Oliver a few seconds to catch up with what happened. 

“Oh, Bluesy, you’re no fun!” he whines, sounding like an eight-year-old.

“And you, big brother, are drunk and it is not socially acceptable,” Clark counters.  “How do you think Mr. Morningstar—or how about Diana—would feel about you behaving like this?”

Oliver’s face turns pale for a minute or two, but then he throws his head back and laughs.  “Oh, Clark, it doesn’t matter.” He walks toward Clark and squeezes his shoulder brotherly.  “Live a little, buddy.  We’re all going to hell anyway.”

Clark stares at the hand on his shoulder briefly, probably looking as if he thinks it’s poisonous or grimy.  “Alright, Oliver.  Let’s go to hell.”  He puts a hand on his brother’s back and somewhat forcefully steers him away from the mess of the living room and towards the stairs in the foyer.  Briefly, Clark looks back and mouths a _sorry_ to Lana and Emma.

“Clark, you silly boy, hell’s not upstairs, it’s downstairs!” Oliver corrects his brother frankly.  Then he makes Clark jump as he throws his head back and laughs hysterically. 

 _Is this guy drunk, or is he high on something?_ Clark wonders.  He painstakingly counts the minutes as he steers his brother towards his bedroom.  Tess thankfully left the door wide open.  As he reaches the door however, Oliver wobbles a little and then falls to the ground face first before Clark can react. 

“And he’s passed out,” Clark mutters.

“This is the summer before you reappeared all over again.”  Clark looks up from his brother’s unconscious body and sees Tess.  “The bathtub is full.”

“Great,” Clark thanks.  He then stoops down and hauls his brother up like a dead princess as if he were just a Lego figure.  Careful not to let his brother bump into anything, Clark carries his brother to the bathroom. Therein, Clark sees the bathtub is indeed full.  Not seeing any point in making things awkward for himself by undressing his brother, he eases Oliver into the chill water of the bath. 

It takes a minute or two before Oliver is waking up and thrashing about. 

“IT’S TOO COLD!” yelps Oliver.  Clark has to stifle his smile a little.  His brother is reminding him of a puppy reluctant to receive a bath.  His humor is cut short when Oliver slips while attempting to stand up and nearly hits his head on the faucet.  Clark quickly catches him before that happens.  As he steadies his older brother, they soon lock eyes.  Soon Oliver’s gaze becomes something a little unreadable.

“I will never let go,” he says lovingly.

Clark almost asks what he is talking about, but comprehension soon dawns on him.  As drunk as Oliver is, he is still able to see that and his expression turns quite mischievous.  “God, you’re weird,” Clark mutters and lets go of him brother. 

“What you’re just going to let me drown in here?” asks Oliver, as Clark walks away.

“Maybe you’ll learn something,” Clark suggests as he reaches the door.  “You can tell me what it’s like.”

Oliver curls his tongue and raises his middle finger as Clark steps out the door and closes it behind him.  He almost immediately sees Tess.  She straightens up as they lock eyes. 

“Take care of him, will you?” he asks gently.

Tess smiles lightly and slips inside the bathroom.  At least to him, she doesn’t seem like the kind of woman who would take advantage of his brother while he’s in this inebriated.  He sure is going to have quite a hangover in the morning.

Clark feels that it’s time for him to go to bed as well.  He heads to his own room and readies himself for sleep.  After changing into his blue silk nightwear and brushing his teeth, he welcomes the soft mass of his large bed.  With all that’s happened today, plus Lois’ revelation, he needs the rest and it doesn’t take love for him to fall asleep.

_Clark has a strange dream that night.  He’s in his loft above the garage and he’s having sex with someone. The woman rides him like there is no tomorrow.  He tries to run his hands up her creamy skin and squeeze her breasts, but she bats his hands away, instead taking the opportunity to pin them on either side of him.  At the same time, she is grasping his hands firmly.  Being buried deep within this woman feels indescribably good._

_Then she leans down and captures his lips in a lingering kiss made staccato by the powerful thrusts of their conjoined bodies.  Then as she pulls away, Clark finally makes out a face.  A second ago, the woman had longer hair and bore a strong resemblance to Lois.  Now it’s a very clear image of a shorter-haired woman with green eyes and freckles in all the right places and a body that he can always visualize without the help of x-ray vision.  It’s Chloe._

_Then he looks to the side and sees Lois.  She’s smiling at him and Chloe as Chloe throws her head back and screams.  That’s when Lois moves a bit closer and starts to sit on Clark’s face._

 

That’s when Clark wakes up.  He still has something of a leftover hardness from that explicit dream.  He had only ever seen Lois’ full front once, so it’s possible that his mental image of her is a little off.  He lies in bed for a few minutes, just staring up at the ceiling.  As strange as his dream was, it wasn’t unpleasant.  The only real life threesome he ever had _was_ with Lois and Chloe.  Technically, it was a couple of witches who had taken possession of Chloe.  The painful restraints aside, it was far from consensual.  He could never say no to Chloe’s mouth on him, but at the time he was appalled by Lois kissing him.

He now wonders why he had the change of heart when he did which wasn’t terribly long after the incident. 

It’s something that he can think about later.  He climbs out of bed and heads to the shower.  As he sheds his clothes and steps in, he opts for a colder shower.  As he turns the faucet, he winces slightly at the spray of cold water.  It’s not freezing, but cold enough to be a little uncomfortable.  It prompts him to be quick about his shower.

When he finishes, he quickly dries himself off and changes into clean clothes.  He’s thankful it’s not Monday yet, but he does like the advantages of superspeed.  Sometimes it’s hard to get his hair to look right when superspeeding around while his hair is still damp.  Having made that little mistake, he grabs a comb and does his best to comb some order back into his hair.

Finally, he heads downstairs to get some breakfast.  He finds his brother already in the kitchen with an icepack pressed to his head.

“Morning, boozy,” Clark bids his brother.

Oliver glances up from his bowl of oatmeal cantankerously.  “You are literally incapable of getting drunk, so you don’t get to call me ‘boozy’.”

Clark considers that for a minute as he starts making his own oatmeal.  “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

“That doesn’t make any of what I said last night untrue,” Oliver says quickly. 

Clark scoffs.  “What, all that nonsense about us going to hell?” he meets his brother’s gaze and his humor falters as he registers the genuine worry, even fear upon his brother’s features.  Oliver’s a bit hung over, but Clark supposes that he owes it to him to hear him out for just a few minutes.  After placing heating up the water for his instant oatmeal with his heat vision and pouring it over the mix, he sits down across from his brother.

“Okay, buddy, tell me about last night,” he invites.  “Why are you convinced that we are going to hell?”

Perhaps noticing his genuine interest, Oliver immediately calms down as leans in close.  “What would you say if I told you that Mr. Morningstar, proprietor of the Talon and your guidance counselor, was the devil himself?”

Okay, Clark was not expecting that.  Sure, he always thought the name was some sort of pseudonym like Ozzy Osbourne, or Madonna, or Prince, but he never thought of him as the actual devil.  He fiercely maintains his look of neutral interest, biting back his humor as hard as he can. 

He nods carefully, but he doubts that he’s fooling his brother.  They know each other too well. 

“What has Mr. Morningstar done that has you convinced he’s the real life devil?” asks Clark reasonably.

“Clark think about it,” Oliver encourages.  “Mr. Morningstar shows up around the same time that you reappear.  Before August, Lucifer, Trixie, and Emma Morningstar didn’t exist.  It’s like they just appeared out of thin air.”

“Okay, I’ll agree that that’s strange, but why does that mean that…?”

“Then not long after that, Aunt Di comes to town—and trust me, I believe she came simply to see us—but she also stays.”

“What’s wrong with that, Ollie?” asks Clark incredulously.  “Don’t you think that she just wanted us to have someone that we both trust in our lives for the time being?”

Oliver rolls his eyes.  “He confessed to being the devil last night when he came to pick up Aunt Di for dinner!  Plus, haven’t you ever noticed that people seem to tell the truth around him despite their better judgment?  Haven’t you overheard him saying that stupid phrase ‘What is it you desire’?”

Clark raises his eyebrows.  “Ollie, if you keep up _that_ sorry excuse of a British accent, you might make a good fortune teller someday.”

Oliver scowls at him.  “Ha-ha, smart ass.  But you have heard him say that, right?”

Clark nods.  “I have.”  He sighs heavily.  “Okay, Ollie, I love you so I’m going to take a leap of faith and believe you.  That’s also why I’m going to ask you something.”

Oliver sits back in his chair.  “Ask away.”

“Has Lucifer Morningstar done anything to suggest that he has some diabolical plan?”

Oliver’s gaze falters a bit.  He doesn’t say anything, so Clark continues.

“Other than the usual weirdness of Smallville, has anything…supernatural happened—other than three of my friends being possessed by sixteenth-century witches and me being raped by my ex and somewhat-current girlfriend?” Clark adds quickly as Oliver blinks dubiously.

“Okay, fine, maybe you’re right and I’m just going nuts like some religious fanatic,” Oliver admits.  His face twists into a frown.  “You and Lois are somewhat current?  Okay, you need to elaborate on that.”

Clark clenches his teeth stubbornly.  “I really don’t want to talk about that.”

Oliver’s frown deepens.  “Now I know that look.  It’s the same look you had when you were ten and Mom called at the last minute saying that she couldn’t attend your ballet recital.  You’re pissed off.  You look like you could go around town making origami out of the hoods of people’s cars and then eat ice cream on top of the highest church tower as everyone below wonders what the hell happened to their cars.” 

Clark scratches his chin thoughtfully.  “That sounds fun.”

Oliver scoffs.  “Yup and Diana would kill us both.”

“No, that sounds quite fun.”

Clark and Oliver jump at the sound of their mentor’s voice.  Clark glances towards the entrance to the kitchen closest to the front door.

“Those clothes are brand new, aren’t they?” asks Clark, eyeing her expensive denim jeans and black silk shirt.  “And I’m assuming that the dress you wore last night is in that bag?”

Diana smiles sheepishly, a look that Clark doesn’t see on her very often.  “You are very observant, Clark.  So what are you two discussing so tensely?  And please don’t say ‘it’s nothing.’  It’s too early.”

Clark and Oliver exchange a look.  Clark sighs heavily.  “Lois and I are…taking a break.”

“Oh, gods, I’m sorry to hear that,” Diana apologizes as she empties a packet of instant oatmeal into a bowl of water. 

Oliver shakes his head.  “When you say ‘taking a break,’ do you mean _taking a break_ or are you breaking up?  Either way, based on how tense you’ve been this morning, this seems a lot uglier than your breakup with Chloe.  Did Lois cheat on you?”

Clark rolls his eyes.  “May I just say what a cliché question that is?”

Oliver exchanges a glance with Diana.  “Okay, point taken.  What happened?”

Clark studies the curious and concerned glances of two of the people he most considers family.  What is he supposed to tell them?  Should he tell them the full truth?  That might send them both after Lois with guns—or bows and swords—blazing.  Perhaps it won’t.  If he lies to them and they don’t realize it, he will just be left with the guilt of lying to people that care about him.  And if he refuses to talk about it all together, they might respect it, but they won’t stop wondering.  They might even go to Lois and see what she has to say. 

“What if I told you that…?” Clark begins, but then falters.  They don’t look patient enough for him to simply teeter around the subject with silly questions.

“Lois has been spying on me!” he snaps, slamming his fist down on the granite countertop.  When he hears a crack, he winces hard.  “Sorry, Mom,” he mutters softly.  He’s going to have to have that replaced.  Then again, he reminds himself that his mother wasn’t all that big on materialism. 

Diana and Oliver stare hard into his eyes.  Then they exchange a glance.  Finally they return their gazes to him.

“Huh, I didn’t peg her for the jealous girlfriend type,” smirks Oliver. 

Clark groans.  “That’s exactly what I said when she told me she was spying on me.  No, it turns out Lois just has a douchebag of a father.  She tells me she doesn’t know his intentions, but not long after we met, her father started forcing her to gather intel and find out whatever she could about me.  Not just me, but our family.  All the time that I thought she was my friend and eventual girlfriend, she was spying on me.”

Oliver breathes hard, clenching and unclenching his hands.  “And she knows your secret.”

“She says that she has barely told her father anything that he didn’t already know,” Clark insists.

“And you believe her?” asks Diana, who seems to have found her spoon unusually fascinating.

“I positively don’t know,” Clark replies truthfully.  “My mind was all over the place and this hit me so severely that I can’t make a decision.  I took a leap of faith and chose to believe her.” 

“Why?” asks Oliver between gritted teeth.  “You’ve known her less than a year.”

“I _don’t know_ , Oliver,” snaps Clark.  “Maybe I couldn’t bear the thought of hurting Chloe’s cousin.  Maybe she seemed distraught enough and I was shocked enough that though I wanted to just dangle her from the highest tower in Metropolis, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”  He leans across the island.  “I want to squeeze her until she thinks her bones are about to snap.  I want to fly to whatever Army base her father is in and burn it to the ground.  I want to erase all traces of myself and just hide for the rest of my life.  But I can’t bring myself to do it.”

“You care about her,” Diana sums up thoughtfully. 

Clark and Oliver shoot her a glance as she gets her oatmeal out of the microwave.  She turns around and studies their glances.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” she scolds.  “I think we all agree that at this point you truly don’t love her, but I know you Clark.  You’ve come to care about her enough that you are willing to see the best in her.  Deep down, you might even have all the parts in place to fall in love with her.  You just need to figure out how to assemble them…assuming that is what you want.”

Clark stares hard into his mentor’s wise eyes for several minutes.  “You’re not angry?  About Lois lying to me?”

“Of course I am!” Diana assures him.  “It angers and saddens me that the woman you’ve been dating has been lying to you.  However, if what you say she says is all true, she’s as much a victim in this whole scheme.  I believe you already knew that.”

“Yes, but it doesn’t make it much better,” mutters Clark.  “If anybody is most likely to actually retaliate, it’s Chloe.  She’s the one who convinced Lois to date me, so I feel she has more reason than any of us to feel betrayed.”

“Then perhaps it’s best if we make sure she doesn’t find out just yet,” Oliver suggests.  “Believe me, Bluesy, I would very much like to use your little not-girlfriend as target practice, but Aunt Di will probably put a leash on me before I get that close.  So what are you going to do now?”

Clark shrugs.  “I don’t know.  All I do know is that I can’t be around Lois Lane right now.  I’m too angry and I don’t know if I will be able to control myself around her.”

“You worried you’re going to throw her into your bed and then wake up in the morning swearing to each other that you’ll never speak of what went down between you two?” teases Oliver.  Diana smacks him in the back of the head.    

Clark scowls at his big brother.  “That’s not even funny.”

“What’s not funny?”

Everyone looks up and sees Tess has finally risen from bed. 

“Nothing much,” replies Diana.  “Come, Ms. Mercer.  Why don’t you take a seat and I’ll make everyone a proper breakfast.”

“How was your date with Lucifer?” asks Tess as she accepts Diana’s invitation. 

Clark can’t hide his smile as Diana’s ears redden.  “Well…”

“C’mon, Aunt Di, humor us,” Oliver encourages.  “After all, you’re probably the one who is going to hell.”

Diana glares at him and he winks at Clark.  Clark smiles back.  

 _Maybe Diana is the one who is going to hell_ ,” Clark says to himself as Diana begins her little tale.  It will be a good distraction from all the turmoil in his mind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed!
> 
> Next week there will be a little peek into Isobel’s life and it might be decidedly more violent.


	52. Chapter Fifty-One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, this chapter contains mild rape/non-con.

_February 10 th, 2002_

_I’ve tried so hard to keep my sons in check, making sure they behave, and stay out of the tabloids.  I didn’t always succeed, but I never thought that Clark would make it into the tabloids.  One of the highlights of Laura and I’s lives—Clark Queen with a sex scandal attached to his name._

_Who would have thought that one day I would walk into the Talon and see my son and his girlfriend, Chloe Sullivan, making out as the kids call it, on the couch?  And both of them were topless!_

_The people around them were either gawking, wolf-whistling, or trying very hard to look the other way.  My afternoon coffee could wait.  First I promised everyone in the building a cappuccino, or whatever, on me if they would clear out of the building so that I could confront my son.  Everyone in this town knows I keep my promises and they cleared out.  With the coffeehouse empty, I walked towards the topless couple and stood up straight._

_Normally, just a scowl and standing up straight is enough to get Clark to stop whatever he’s doing and bow his head.  No, that wasn’t going to work.  I shouted his name.  Clark finally pulled himself away from Chloe enough to look up at me._

_“Hi, Dad, how’s it going?” he asked me in an irritatingly conversational tone._

_I tried to order him to quit this nonsense and to get up and put his shirt back on.  He wouldn’t listen.  He had to “watch his girlfriend come.”  That’s when I saw the red object protruding from the back pocket of his pants.  He wouldn’t stop moving long enough for me to get a good look, but my safest guess was that it was red kryptonite.  Not taking any time to think of an alternative, I rushed out to my car and grabbed the lump of green kryptonite that I kept in a lead box in the trunk.  I rushed back inside and, though I hate myself for it, I hit Clark as hard as I could over the head with that lump._

_Clark was knocked out cold.  Chloe threw all kinds of obscenities at me for harming her boyfriend, using words that as a writer/reporter seem quite below her.  Then she started seizing.  I didn’t know what was wrong with her.  Leaving Clark behind without the red kryptonite, I covered Chloe’s upper nakedness with my blazer and drove her to Smallville Medical Center._

_Turns out she was infected with a parasite that fed on her adrenaline.  It seemed like the way she was climbing all over Clark, she would have given herself a heart attack simply from too-intense orgasms.  When she regained consciousness, she apparently had no memory of her escapade with Clark.    I’m just glad that I was able to help her.  Pete Ross, it looks like he’s going to be spending more time in the hospital._

_He went joyriding and drove off a cliff.  Clark saved him a nick of time, getting Pete out of the car and flying him to safety.  Pete’s Trans Am is history and Clark must have been really out of it.  Clark is normally really good at flying, but whatever he must have been feeling from being knocked out must have felt like a hangover.  He saved Pete, but Pete was seriously injured, probably from the impact of Clark flying him out of the car with enough force to rip off the seatbelt._

_Chloe might not have remembered what happened, but I think it’ll weeks, if not a few months before people quit talking about it.  I’ve gone to heroic lengths to keep the news from spreading beyond the borders of Smallville.  I failed.  Almost every day since, reporters have tried to corner me at my home, at work, and even Clark while he’s at school.  Clark has developed a way of getting people to back off while giving them a little of what they want at the same time.  People haven’t bothered him directly and it looks like he’s not making headlines as much I thought he would._

_What did he tell them?  What’s his strategy?  People from Smallville to Metropolis and even some of my friends in Star City won’t stop talking about it, but the tabloids don’t even have a picture of Clark and Chloe.  What happened to the pictures people might have taken in the Talon?  Whatever happened, I’m grateful.  As far as the media is concerned, without any photos, it’s all unproven gossip._

_Either way, even if he had been under the influence of red kryptonite, he’s grounded.  Gabe is definitely not in any mood to let Clark anywhere near his daughter for God knows how long.  We all know what Clark is capable of, so he had better keep his distance or there will be hell to pay._

_In other matters, Lionel is in a good mood.  Our joint company seems to be making huge profits.  The only problem is, some of those profits are too great to have been made simply from the projects I have approved.  Even if profits are excellent, this hardly seems like a time for good spirits._

_People, most likely meteor freaks, continue to disappear.  My investigators are getting nowhere and they are some of the best at what they do.  Actually, one of my investigators disappeared.  It seems that whoever is making these poor people, mostly children, disappear is really good at covering their tracks.  The investigator who disappeared must have gotten too close._

_I think it’s time to tell Laura what I’ve been up to._

Isobel stands in front of the altar.  The first thing she did when she was freed from the mind of her descendant, Lana Lang was she got new clothes.  Being inside Lana’s head for so long, she picked up a few basic skills along the way, such as how to use modern currency.  Lana has a lousy sense of style. 

Isobel has quickly adapted to the current styles.  Plenty of women in this century don’t even wear corsets.  The clothes actually offer breathing room.  Still, without the corset hugging her body, it’s like she’s wearing a scandalous undergarment.  There were too many clothes she wanted that she could afford with Lana’s money, so she just took them.  As far as others would be concerned, they simply vanished.

Next she had to do something about her spellbook.  That boy, Clark Queen destroyed it.  She isn’t powerless without that book, but at the same time there are many spells that she is unable to perform.  There are many spells too delicate, too specific to attempt without knowing exactly what’s needed.  Isobel searched many places in the country and even France for anything resembling a book of magic. 

She did find a few.  Many of what she found were just the nonsense of frauds looking into crystal balls, some of which were just glass.  It’s embarrassing what is considered “magic” in this world.  Finally, she came across a young sorceress and her father.  Some young lady named Zatanna Zatara.  She and her father did perform for audiences, but Isobel could feel powerful magic emanating from them both.  She stole their spellbook.  The young Zatanna caught her in the act and tried to stop her, but as talented as she was, she had much to learn.  Isobel overpowered her easily.

Finally, with a spellbook in hand, she renewed her quest for the stones.  Sadly, all chances of resurrecting her friends was expired with the use of that last spell, but Isobel is glad to be rid of them. 

She went to the caves near Smallville.  Standing in front of the stone altar now, Isobel is fuming.  The stones are gone!  Does that mean they have been assembled?  If so, who could have done it?  Who could have robbed her of the powers that could have been, should have been hers?  She knows of the lore surrounding the stones.  They talk of some sort of traveler, or visitor from the heavens.  If that is true, it should have been her controlling it. 

Is Clark Queen the culprit in the missing stones?  If so, Isobel would very much like to pay him a visit.  She could force him to give her the stones.  The stones harmed her when she touched them, but it’s a small price to pay for unlimited power. 

Isobel screams in frustration, causing the stone walls around her to rumble and crack.  With a few deep breaths, she attempts to calm herself, lest she bring the whole cave down on her.  She needs this cave.  How can she be so foolish to let herself lose her temper in such a place? 

She’s unsure of the significance, but something tells her that this place holds some sort of importance to the local culture.  Plus, if she brings the place down around her, it would turn too many heads.  She already has to hide her location, lest the Zataras come looking for their missing spellbook.

Picturing her destination as clearly as possible, Isobel disappears in a cloud of purple smoke.  The sensation of teleportation is a strange feeling of being squeezed through a narrow tube, being pressed inward on all sides.  It ends almost as quickly as it begins.

She reappears a short distance from the large house that the Queens live in.  From this distance, she can’t fully see what’s going on.  What she does see are people in that large glass room with that water-filled basin.  Isobel knows that to be a “swimming pool” based on Lana’s memories.  However, not even Lana’s memories are enough to teach her to swim, let alone overcome her fear of water.  Once upon a time, women being so sparsely dressed, wearing one or two-piece “swimsuits” or “bathing suits” would be enough to have them stoned to death, or branded as harlots. 

Isobel would like to have had that kind of freedom in her past life.  The lover she once had, with whom she bore the child that guaranteed her bloodline’s existence, had to figure out how to undo petticoats and corsets in order to fully touch her.  She had the child out of wedlock when she was fourteen and her parents forced her to give up the child, sending the bastard to a convent.  She never even had the chance to hold her, let alone name her. 

No matter, her bloodline survived and thus her resurrection was insured.  She never thought she would actually become separate from her descendant.  She’s quite happy to be free from the mind of Lana.  How could she end up inside the head of such a whiny brat?  Lana has so much potential and she finds way too much to whine about.  A small price to pay for the spell she cast so long ago, right before she was consumed by flame. 

Isobel might not have been as vocal about it as Madeline, but she too hates fire.  It’s fascinating to see how humankind has developed.  They don’t even have to rely on fire for basic things such as light, warmth, or even cooking to a certain extent.  Isobel is particularly fond of microwave popcorn. 

Through Isobel’s musings, she continues to observe the Queens and the two women with them.  Isobel doesn’t know what the make of the redhead beyond her shrewdness and the love between her and the older Queen boy.  As for the dark-haired woman, Isobel has felt her magic.  She’s a very powerful witch indeed, possibly more powerful than Clark Queen in some respects. 

Isobel has considered an alliance with the woman, but she doubts that the woman would share her ideals.  Together, the world could tremble before them.  Why would…Diana not share her ideas?  What loyalties does she owe the world?  Compared to them, everyone is an insect.  She even considered giving Clark an opportunity to stand by her, but he destroyed her spellbook and thwarted all chances of her reuniting with her friends. 

If only she can get her hands on the stones of power, her powers will increase exponentially. 

Isobel’s thoughts are interrupted by the sound of Lana’s phone ringing.  She fishes the device out of her pocket.  It truly is a fascinating device, but in the times when messages were passed along by messengers, either on foot or horseback, it actually got people off their feet. 

She answers.

“Hello,” she answers, putting on her best Lana impression.

“Hey, Lana,” it’s Pete Ross.  He’s a charming boy.  He’s not what Isobel would have chosen, but Lana clearly likes him and their relationship has been blossoming into something romantic. 

“Pete,” Isobel replies, hoping her voice conveys the smile she’s feigning. 

“Hey, so listen, I’m on my way to your apartment, do you want me to stop and get anything?” asks Pete.

Isobel hesitates for a minute.  She remembers that Lana and Pete were planning a date this afternoon.  She has other priorities than indulging in Lana’s love life.  Then again, she has to keep up this façade more than ever.  She did a lousy job of that when she first had the opportunity to be in control of Lana’s body.  She could ask Pete to buy a bottle of wine, but he’s not of legal age and he seems a little too honorable to her to try and pull of a fake identification.  Also, this is a small town.  Anyone would know that he’s not old enough.

“No, Pete, that won’t be necessary,” she finally replies. “Just bring yourself.”  She’s starting to see other opportunities in his visit.  Once again, she vanishes and reappears in Lana’s apartment.  It’s a cozy living space, Isobel has to admit.  Considering the fact that it’s the only apartment above a coffeehouse, Lana could easily steal anything below her.  Lucifer Morningstar must have considerable trust skills if he continues to allow Lana to live here without worrying that she will commit theft. 

Isobel isn’t sure how she feels about the current forms of justice.  There are considerably less harsh punishments for things that would have gotten people hanged back in her day.  She goes to the bathroom mirror and inspects herself.  Never in her life did she think her teeth could be so white.  She never had many problems with her teeth, but they weren’t a beautiful sight either. 

Unsure of the state of her breath, she brushes and flosses her teeth.  She could say that she enjoys oral care a little too much.  When she finishes, she brushes her hair, making sure there are no tangles.  Finally, she makes sure her miniskirt dress is free of wrinkles with the help of some magic.  She didn’t even bother trying to figure out how to use the ironing board. 

When she hears the knock on the door, she nearly jumps.  She was so preoccupied; she hadn’t even listened for the door.  Giving her hair a slight toss, Isobel clears her throat and heads over to the front door. 

She opens it to find Pete in his varsity jacket and actually looking rather handsome. 

“Peter,” Isobel greets with a sweet smile as she steps aside to allow him in. 

Pete scoffs as he steps into the apartment.  “Boy, girl, my parents are the only people who call me that and that’s only when I’m in trouble.”

If Isobel will be honest, she fails to see the appeal in being referred to as _girl_.  She’s not a child and it’s not very endearing to her.  Men always think that they are the superior sex, no matter how hard some of them try to show otherwise. 

Still, she frowns playfully.  “Oh, are you telling me that I shouldn’t call you by your name?”  She walks over and leans in so her mouth is close to his ear as he takes a seat on the couch.

Pete lets out a shaky breath.  “You can call me whatever you want, Lana.”

Isobel raises an eyebrow.  As much as she would love for him to call her _Isobel_ , she knows that that would give her away instantly.  Also, considering this country’s history, she worries it would be quite insensitive on her part to call him _slave_. 

“Whatever I want?” she repeats softly, knowing her breath is hot in his ear.

Pete is reacting to her in many ways and not just in his groin.  “Lana, what’s going on?” he asks with a touch of uncertainty.  “I thought we were going to get dinner.”

“Oh, we will, but when have we indulged in each other?” she asks softly.  She is unsure of what’s come over her.  All she knows is that she is finding herself craving to be touched.  It has been too long since she has indulged herself with the pleasures of the flesh.  “Come on, Pete,” she urges gently, hooking a stocking-clad leg over his leg.  “Don’t you want me?”

Almost inaudibly, she whispers a mild incantation.  Instantly, she feels a change in Pete.  The arousal was entirely him.  All she did was lower his inhibitions.  Still, she’s caught by surprise when Pete turns and captures her lips in a sensual kiss.  Feeling triumphant, she parts her lips and welcomes his touch.  He tastes of spearmint.  She has very vivid memories of kissing men with unclean, beer-stained mouths.  Often, she left those men in ruin, if not in a state of mindlessness. 

As Pete deepens the kiss, Isobel moves to straddle him.  This poor boy thinks that he’s about to make love to his girlfriend.  He is sorely wrong.  She’s a powerful witch who is going to have a child with him.  Her first choice would have been to have a child with Clark Queen, but she couldn’t seduce him into bed even if she tried.  Despite the inner turmoil she thinks she has seen lately through the eyes of Lana, his heart had been stolen a long time ago.  She only wonders if the woman whom he has given his heart to is aware of just how lucky she is to have such a godlike man.    

A child with Pete Ross would do.  Once she has the stones of power, her child will be more powerful than she would ever be.

Pete presses a calloused hand against her chest.  Isobel feels herself grow excited at the touch of his hand.  Then he pushes her away.  As their lips part, Isobel feels a flash of anger as her eyes flutter open. 

“Are you sure?” he rasps. 

Why do young men these days always seem to pull away just as things are growing exciting?  In response to his silly question, Isobel rubs against him in a deliberately slow motion.  “ _Oui, mon cher_ ,” she utters in her native tongue. 

She sees the glint in his eye and she knows that he is completely under her spell.  Without thinking, she utters another spell and her clothes disappear.

Pete smiles up at her as if nothing strange just happened. 

“Oh, God, Lana,” he groans.  “You’re so beautiful.”

Isobel smiles and leans down to kiss him again.  Yes, this will be quite fun.  She might even get him to utter her true name. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize I could have have gone into further detail with this last scene, but I think everyone can picture what happens next. Plus, while I can get really sadistic when I want to, non-con (I think this could be considered non-con?) is where I draw the line in terms of huge detail.


	53. Chapter Fifty-Two

_February 20 th, 2003_

_Lionel and I are about close to having a falling out.  One of our joint operations involves cloning research.  I’m not a terribly religious man, but at the same time there are certain things that I don’t think people were meant to do.  Creating life, or in this case cloning life, is one of those things.  Creating life should be limited to the wonders of proliferation.  I don’t why I just wrote down that word.  Maybe it’s because it was the word of the day on the internet._

_Before, the cloning research was simply limited to smaller animals, like rodent s and other small creatures.  I have to admit, I am impressed with some of the breakthroughs.  However, the man in charge of the cloning research worries me, has worried me.  It didn’t take long to discover what got the man into cloning research._

_His daughter, Emily, drowned several years ago.  I guess the two of us have something in common.  His daughter died saving none other than Lana Lang.  He was trying to clone his daughter and it seems that the biggest issue with the cloning process is figuring out how to slow down the aging.  The rodents that have been cloned, such as rats, none of them have lived for more than a week.  A human child might take a bit longer than that, but still is it really worth it?_

_I tried to share woes with the man.  I was brave enough to even ask if he was really honoring his daughter’s memory by trying to clone her.  He got very upset.  Lionel came into the room and Dr. Dinsmore tried to sell us on the benefits of cloning.  Lionel was sold.  I was not.  Still, Dr. Dinsmore showed us how far he has gone with his research, or tried to._

_Apparently, he wanted to show us that he had succeeded in cloning his daughter and at this point in time, she looks like a ten-year-old girl.  I questioned how he managed to do it and his answer was none other than meteor rocks.  All he wanted was further funding so that he could figure out how to slow down the aging process to a more humanlike rate. Also, he had to figure out what to do with the side effects of accelerated growth.  Those side effects included a lack of moral growth or even a conscience._

_He was going to show us, but his “daughter” was missing.  We asked where it, or she, could have gone, but Dr. Dinsmore had no idea.  One of the things that Lionel and I actually agreed on, we fired him._

_Dr. Dinsmore didn’t seem terribly sound of mind.  He was very angry about being terminated.  We had to have security escort him off the facility and arranged to have his belongings mailed to him._

_A few hours later, in Smallville instead of Granville, Dr. Dinsmore was found skewered by a garden post.  A gruesome injury, that’s for sure.  Clark had been doing his own digging as well and, much to my disapproval, he broke into Dr. Dinsmore’s house and discovered more tubes where Dr. Dinsmore had clones of his daughter._

_I’m starting to worry about Clark sleuthing about.  If he connects the dots, it might lead straight back to me.  I don’t want my son thinking that I approve of accelerated cell growth research.  It is so unethical, yet so astonishing._

_Poor Lana, though, she was nearly killed by the clone.  Once again, she was saved by Clark.  Clark is absolutely devoted to his girlfriend, astonishingly monogamous for a young man.  Still, sometimes I can’t tell who he saves more, Chloe or Lana._

_Now where Lionel and I have started our little falling out, that’s another story.  Lionel was intrigued enough, that he wanted to continue the cloning research.  I wanted to shut it down.  It caused a long, intense argument.  It became such a shouting match that it caused a few people to stare.  What angered Lionel even further is that I had the clone of Emily Dinsmore destroyed.  I’ll admit, it felt like an execution, or murder even, but the awful truth is that she was little more than a defective science project._

_Lionel was outraged.  Seeing no other choice in the matter, though, he reluctantly agreed to shut the research down altogether.  Knowing Lionel, this is far from over._

_I worry my career, if not my reputation may soon be destroyed.  I just have to be prepared to hit harder.  It’s a brutal game of chess full of surprise moves and stalemates._

 

Clark is reviewing his college acceptance letters.  He has been accepted into Princeton, Harvard, Yale, Stanford, and even MetU.  It is times like these that he feels guilty about being forced to return to the fortress as soon as he graduates.  He knows all too well what that stupid AI is capable of and so he isn’t willing to defy him.

Still what is he supposed to tell the people he cares about?  It seems that the people who will understand the most will be Chloe and the Kents.  Then there is his brother, Oliver.  They both only just got each other back and this time Clark will be the one leaving too soon.  Will Oliver understand?  Will he hate him for it?  He will undoubtedly be distraught, but maybe he will understand.

“I haven’t seen that look in a while.”

Clark looks up from his acceptance letters to see Chloe.  It’s a hot day and she’s clad in a white tank top and denim shorts.  He can see the outline of a black bra beneath her tank top.  It’s a little arousing.  Then again, will he ever not be aroused by Chloe in the slightest?

“Hey, Chloe,” he greets with a smile.  “How are you?”

Chloe raises her eyebrows.  “Clark you say that as if we don’t see each other almost every day!”

A smile to match hers crosses his lips.  “Indulge me.”

Chloe rolls her eyes with a light chuckle.  “Well, if you must know, I’m doing great.”

“Where’s Trixie?” asks Clark.

“Lucifer is taking her and Emma to Metropolis for the weekend,” replies Chloe.  “I had nothing else to do, so I decided to come over.”

Clark frowns.  “Oh, is that what I am now?  A last resort?”

Chloe scoffs and closes the distance between them, plopping herself on the couch beside him.  “You, Clark Queen, are anything but a last resort in my life,” she assures him, wrapping her arms around him and resting her cheek against his shoulder.  They do much of the same things as when they were romantically involved, but have managed to find a little niche that lets them do those things while keeping it platonic. 

“Ooh, you got letters from your choice schools?” asks Chloe. 

“I’ve been accepted into each of them,” says Clark.

Chloe breaks away from him momentarily.  “Clark, I’m so happy for you!” she squeals before hugging him again.  Clark hugs her back warmly.  “Which one are you going to go to?”

“I’m not sure if I am going to be heading off to college,” Clark answers reluctantly. 

Chloe halts and she pulls away enough to trap him with her piercing gaze.  “What, why?”

Clark sighs heavily.  There are only a handful of secrets between them.  “Remember when I united the stones and I got sent to the Arctic?”

Chloe nods.  “You said you weren’t ready to talk about what happened.”

“Yeah, well I…”

Chloe grasps his hand affectionately.  “Clark, what is it?”

There is no easy way to say it.  “Chloe, I have to leave for that fortress right after graduation.”

Chloe lets go of his hand and cups her hands in her lap.  She stares into her lap for several minutes.  “For how long?” she finally asks without looking at him.

“I have no idea,” Clark replies honestly.  “But you and I both know what my biological father is capable of when I disobey him.”

“Does Oliver know?”

“No, I haven’t figured out how to tell him.”

“What about Lois?”

Clark stiffens.  “I still haven’t spoken to her in a while.”

Chloe grumbles.  “Clark, I wish you would tell me what happened between you two.  One minute, you think you’re ready to tell her you love her and the next when I mention her, you act like you’d rather talk about Mengele.  I know I’ve promised not to pry, but she is my cousin.  I think I deserve to know at least some of what’s going on.”

Clark stares into the eyes of his best and oldest friend.  She does have a point.  Is he really sparing her any pain by not telling her about Lois reluctantly investigating him?  He’s still very upset with her.  Following her confession, virtually all of his thoughts of her have been tainted with echoes of what she told him. 

“For now, let’s just say that she’s not who I thought she was,” he finally says.  Chloe cocks her head and frowns.  He clarifies.  “She told me something that broke my heart and right now I just can’t deal with her.  I’ll tell you what it was eventually, but right now, can we just enjoy this afternoon?”  Really, a savage part of him thinks that Lois should be the one to reveal to Chloe what she’s been doing, but all that anger is very exhausting, even for him. 

Clark sees several emotions cross Chloe’s face.  He sees anger, sadness, regret, and pity all rolled into one gaze.  She breaks her gaze from him and sinks into the couch. 

“I’m so sorry, Clark,” she whispers, not looking at him. 

“Why?” asks Clark, befuddled.  “It’s nothing you did?”

“But I did,” Chloe insists.  “I talked her into dating you, giving you a chance, and now you tell me that she said something that broke your heart?”

“It has nothing to do with xenophobia, if that’s what you’re thinking,” at least not on Lois’ part.  Chloe doesn’t seem all that reassured by Clark’s comforting words.  He sighs and gently drags her into his arms, hugging and holding her close.

“You couldn’t have known,” he whispers gently.  He pushes her away just enough to make her look him in the eye.  “Chloe, you’re not perfect.  No one is.  Maybe Lois and I aren’t as perfect for each other as you thought, but that doesn’t mean you need to beat yourself up for playing matchmaker.”

“I thought you thought I was being silly for playing that role,” Chloe reminds him stubbornly.

“I did, I do,” Clark admits.  “But I’d rather you play matchmaker and give me a reason to shake my head at you than be dull and not funny.”

Chloe laughs wryly.  “I can’t decide if you’re insulting or complimenting me.”

Clark shrugs.  “You’re the one who called me ‘man of mystery’ once.  What would I be if I stopped playing _that_ role?”

They both laugh briefly.  Eventually, both their laughter subsides.  Clark hasn’t noticed until now just how close they are.  It’s messing with his thoughts and more and more he’s finding himself unable to think straight.  She too looks unsure of what to make of how close they are.  They are still holding onto each other, their faces inches apart.

“Chloe…” he breathes.

“ _CLARK QUEEN_!”

Clark and Chloe jump so suddenly, that they both trip and fall off the other side of the couch. 

Clark shakes his head and looks at Chloe.  “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she groans.  He helps her to her feet and they see who shouted at him. 

Oliver has joined them in the loft.  He’s clad in a green sleeveless shirt and jogging shorts. 

“Ollie,” Clark begins conversationally.  “What are you doing with that bow?”

Oliver sneers and raises the bow at him.  “Target practice.”  Before Clark can react, Oliver releases the green-tipped arrow.

“No!” Chloe screams.  Almost as quickly as she shouts that, the arrow hits Clark square in the chest.  Before long, Chloe is giggling. 

“Water arrows?” asks Clark, wiping his face off.  “Seriously?”

“Oh, come on, Clark remember how much fun we had with these things?” asks Oliver indignantly.

“Yeah, when I nine!”

“Aw, are you too ‘cool’ to take a trip down memory lane?” teases Oliver.

“Yeah, Clark, are you?”

Clark glares at his best friend.  She just winks at him.  “Fine, but not here in the loft, okay?”

Oliver bows dramatically.  “Ten second warning.”

Clark rolls his eyes and bursts into superspeed.  He finds his old toy bow and the lead box he keeps his blue kryptonite ring in.  It’s always nice to have a fair game.  He returns to the garage and opens the lead box, barely having time to slip the ring on before Oliver hit him with another arrow.  Even Chloe grabs her own bow that Clark gave her at one point. 

“So, who’s going to die first?” asks Oliver dramatically. 

 _Hopefully not by the ninety-five degree heat_ , Clark thinks as he releases an arrow at his brother, before getting hit by another arrow from Chloe.  He turns to her.  She curtseys in a very un-Chloe-like manner. 

This is going to be _real_ fun.  


	54. Chapter Fifty-Three

_March 1 st, 2003_

_So, I finally told Laura about my side activities.  My joint company with Lionel Luthor is common knowledge, but I’ve steadily gaining more proof regarding disappearing meteor freaks.  Against my better judgment, I have been sending anonymous support packages to families whose family members are disappearing.  According to my people, some of the families don’t even accept them._

_Is it the meteor freaks succumbing to the typical psychosis that Clark keeps encountering?  Is it the families simply fearing their loved ones because of their newfound abilities?_

_People are despicable.  It always leaves me wondering how Clark may have turned out if he had ended up with a family that couldn’t handle his otherworldliness, all the things that make him special.  Jonathan and Martha are great with him.  I believe they would have made tremendous parents, perhaps even better than Laura and I.  Hell, if anything bad happened to me, I would have trusted them to care for my biological son, God rest his soul._

_Anyway, Laura’s immediate reaction to my extracurricular activities earned me two hurtful words.  “Get out.”  She forced me out of our house.  Clark saw me packing a few clothes and he went into a panic attack.  He thought his mother and I were getting divorced.  I’d like to think that Laura was as horrified as I was with that thought.  I have no idea._

_Jonathan offered me to stay at his house, but he has enough on his plate.  With Martha being pregnant, much to everyone’s delight, the second bedroom has been converted into a nursery.  I even offered them Oliver’s crib.  Jonathan seemed determined to build a crib, but Martha insisted that he accept what I was offering.  So that left the couch and I didn’t know how long I’d be staying.  I wasn’t going to that to them._

_I’m sleeping in the loft apartment atop the Queen clock tower in Metropolis.  I must say, I’ve grown accustomed to the serene quiet of living in farmland.  It’s so much more beautiful than the toneless drone of traffic._

_I do hope that Laura and I will start talking again.  I’d love to throw how much it’s upsetting Clark in her face—he’s biting his nails and taking his anger out on fence posts on the Kent farm, driving them in the ground too far—but it’ll only deepen the rift.  Strangely, Chloe has been the one to come and tell me how things are going with my family.  She’s an outside source, so while she and Clark are dating and seem to be crazy about each other, she’s neutral._

_According to her, Laura has been pacing holes into the ground.  I plan on telling her the full extent of what I’ve been doing, as well as all I’ve found out, but first she needs to be willing to listen, not to mention allow me back into our house._

_If Laura forcing me out of the house isn’t hard enough on Clark, there is, or at least there was a man named Dr. Frederick Walden, a renowned linguist who I hear Lex had hired some time ago to study the cave markings in the Kawatche caves, is after the “traveler.”  From what I heard, based on his findings, he—correctly—assumed that there’s a visitor from another planet among us.  He also correctly assumed that it was Clark.  However, like many people sadly, he thought Clark was a threat to society._

_Dr. Walden took things a bit too far and tried to kill Clark.  He nearly succeeded.  He had cornered Clark in the caves and nearly killed him with some sort of powers that he had acquired.  In a case of irony, those same powers injured Dr. Walden.  He didn’t relent though.  When he realized his powers were too unstable, he resorted to the more mundane method:  a lump of kryptonite._

_It hurt—it physically hurt to hear Clark describe how Dr. Walden beat him mercilessly with that lump of kryptonite.  He had never been so scared of people.  It was Chloe who saved his life.  She came to the caves to meet Clark, having been running late because of something she had to do for her father, and she saw what was happening.  She picked up a rock and hit Dr. Walden in the back of the head with it.  It seems she hit him harder than she meant to._

_She killed him._

_To say that Gabe’s daughter is inconsolable would be a massive understatement.  According to who remains one of my most trusted friends, he found her in the bathroom late into the night, having gone through almost an entire bottle of hand soap washing her hands over and over again.  Reminding her that she saved my son’s life wouldn’t work, so all he could do for her was to hold her in his arms.  Clark seemed a bit jealous, but I believe it was meant to be a moment between his girlfriend and her father._

_Unfortunately, Clark had no visible wounds to prove that he was nearly beaten to death, so Chloe’s testimony wouldn’t hold up in a court of law.  Chloe said she was completely ready to testify, but she wasn’t stable.  If anything, it seemed—according to Clark—that she would have been more content with a life sentence, or a lethal injection._

_This will probably haunt me for the rest of my life, but since there were no witnesses other than Clark, I made sure to remove all trace that Chloe was there.  I also made Clark and Chloe promise never to speak of it.  Neither of them seemed content with such a big lie.  To explain Dr. Walden’s blunt –force head trauma, it was explained that he fell off a ledge while observing a high-up cave drawing and landed on his head.  It’s a flimsy explanation, but it worked._

_Strangely, the whole event brought Laura and I back together at least for a day.  It didn’t exactly make Laura any less upset with me for keeping secrets from her, but it’s a start.  She also said that she was willing to sit down and listen to all that I had to say._

 

“High school, how would you define it?” asks Lucifer thoughtfully as he rises from his chair and begins pacing in what little space he has to do so.  “Well, I guess this is the part where I should allow you to answer, but first allow me to tell you what I think.  High school is little more than the latter years of a child’s educational life.  Too often it is glamorized through film, music, television, books, and more recently social media.  They gave you all the stereotypes such as the tortured jocks, the surprisingly attractive losers, the sweet nerds, and of course, the bad boys and girls—though usually bad boys—who are actually quite sweet, talented, or just have a complicated home life.

“What they all fail to really show is that high school is really just a place full of pubescent, hormonal adolescents who are more often than not, quite shallow.  Some of you cannot seem to form complete sentences.  Some of you destroy the English language with shortened words and stupid acronyms that would have given George Orwell nightmares.  You even said ‘hippercrat’.  If you haven’t read _Nineteen-Eighty-Four,_ I highly recommend you put that on your next library book reservation. 

“If the entertainment industry in all its forms would truly show what high school is like, most of it wouldn’t even be appropriate for younger audiences.  _The Breakfast Club_ is a fun film that shows people are capable of overcoming social boundaries, but people too often simply enjoy it for John Hughes typical, yet enjoyable ability to make audiences laugh? 

“High school is a dirty place fully of dirty children who dirty things to each other.  The ones who don’t, or have too much integrity, or are brave enough to be themselves, having not succumbed to peer pressure simply have to learn that they aren’t the only ones suffering. The ‘popular’ ones, the cheerleader whose name everyone knows, the football player that all the young ladies fawn over, and whatever else you can come up with are just as lonely and pathetic as everyone else.

“So, what do you consider yourself, Miss Stiles?” asks Lucifer, ending his monologue and facing the young lady in the chair in front of his desk. 

She’s not an unattractive young lady.  Lucifer would describe her as looking like a Barbie doll, or vanilla ice cream.  Sleek blonde hair, heavy makeup that makes her face shine like plastic, pink jacket that would have made his wife roll her eyes, and voice that makes him want to grind his teeth, Dawn Stiles is everything that would have made his beloved detective succumb to pity. 

From the look on her face, Miss Stiles doesn’t seem to know what to make of his ramblings.  Eventually a scoff escapes her lips.  “I’m the hottest girl in this school.  Based on what you’ve told me, you must have been a loser in high school.  Honestly, I’m only here because Daddy made me.  I’m not some freak who needs counseling from an Armani-clad shrink.”

Lucifer smiles darkly as he rounds the desk and sits on the edge of it, directly in front of her.  “First of all, I am not a shrink.  Second of all, this is Dolce and Gabbana.  Would you like to know what I think of you?”

“Pretty, popular, and probably the best girl in this whole school?” Miss Stiles suggests with a wink.

Lucifer smiles briefly, but then his face melted into a scowl he knows can scare people.  “I think you are a spoiled brat who is used to having everything.  Any thought of being less than the best is unacceptable, unbearable even.  I’m sure that it even bothers you that you aren’t attached to the hip of a boy like Clark Queen.  I’m sure that you are a prom queen candidate.  Would it bother you if there were other candidates?  Would it break your heart if you aren’t elected prom queen?”

Miss Stiles gulps.  “Why wouldn’t I be elected prom queen?”

Lucifer gives her a thoughtful glance.  “I honestly don’t know; I don’t speak for the student body.  I can say that there are people who don’t like snobs.  I’m sure all your friends, even your boyfriend, are quite superficial.”  He registers her confused look.  “Do you even know what ‘superficial’ means?  Fake, shallow, insincere, all words I could use to describe you.  Tell me, what is your boyfriend’s favorite color?”

“Red,” Miss Stiles replies immediately.

Lucifer chuckles.  “I spoke to your boyfriend yesterday.  He told me his favorite color was green, because he loves the view of the trees in spring.  He doesn’t even like the most recent jacket you bought him.  He said it screams you too much.”

Miss Stiles blinks several times but raises her chin. 

“Tell me, Miss Stiles, what do you desire?  Where do you see yourself in ten years?”  Lucifer normally refrains from using that power on students, but this young lady annoys him enough.

The effect is immediate.  “I want to be the prom queen.  I want my mom to see that I’m actually worth something, that I can live up to her example.  I…I don’t know where I see myself in ten years.  I-I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

Lucifer sighs sympathetically.  “Typical,” he mutters under his breath.  It’s not the first time he’s come across someone who is indecisive, who seem to think about as far as what the next designer item to buy with their parents money.  “Okay, that’s all for today.  Run along.”

Looking something like an automaton, Dawn Stiles rises from her chair, grabs her four-hundred-dollar purse, and leaves.  The Queen Brothers have more money than she has and they wear cheaper clothes than her.  Clark dresses well, always wearing tailored red or blue silk shirts with his black pants, but he doesn’t make a habit of showing his wealth through his clothes.  He’s not like Lucifer or Lex Luthor.  Lucifer would like to think that his sense of style is more dynamic than Lex Luthor’s exclusivity for dark suits. 

Lucifer rises from his sitting position and goes back to his chair.  He if definitely tired of hearing teenagers whine for one day.  He starts spinning around in his swivel chair idly, drawing invisible circles into the ceiling.  He would fill his office with music, but the principal doesn’t seem to appreciate his choices.  Normally, Lucifer doesn’t let himself be hindered by rules and regulations, but at least until the renovations on his new club, the Ace of Clubs, are completed this job seems to be his best option without getting involved in business.  Businessmen annoy him.  Unless it’s his own business, he has no desire to be a part of any of them. 

And as his wife always reminded him, he has little regard for authority.  When she was alive, sometimes he showed that lack of regard for authority simply because he loved seeing her annoyed with him.  She would never admit it, and he eventually learned to monitor his humor when she wasn’t having a good day, but he knew she thought it was charming.  Even Diana Prince finds him charming.  The woman tried to kill him, but he can tell that she has fallen under his spell and he never even wanted her to. 

Still, the woman is clearly infatuated with him and she doesn’t seem to be the kind of woman who infatuates easily. 

Lucifer’s thoughts are interrupted by a knock on the door.  “I’m not expecting any more students,” he says to himself as he stops spinning and rises from his chair.  He closes the distance to the door and opens it.  Speak of the devil.  “Diana, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

Diana looks as beautiful as she always does.  Her hair is loose and she is clad in a leather jacket and tight jeans.  “May I come in?”

It is after hours.  “Of course,” he steps aside to let her in. 

“There’s a strange presence new presence in this town,” explains Diana absentmindedly.  “I’ve felt it for the last week or so.” 

“And what does that have to do with me?” asks Lucifer, feeling bored.  “This is Smallville, after all.”

“I don’t know, I just feel like I had to tell someone.”

“Why not tell the Queens?”

Diana frowns at him.  “They have enough on their plate.  Also, Clark needs to focus on his schooling, free from distractions.”

Lucifer cocks his head.  “Why are you really here?”

Diana rolls her eyes.  “You know you are unbelievable, you know that?”

Lucifer raises an eyebrow.  “I could say the same thing about you.  You’re a product of false belief and an extramarital affair.  And you wear a silly outfit when you are off doing the things have branded you a superhero.  You stand for truth and justice and yet you have gone to dinner, and even gotten a little carried away with the devil himself.  So, who is more unbelievable?  Me or you?”

Diana scowls.  Then she stalks towards him, places a hand around the back of his neck and yanks his head down to hers.  Their lips meet in frantic passion.  She pries his lips own and Lucifer welcomes her soft tongue as it explores the depths of his mouth.  His hands settle on her waist and he pulls her close, almost that her feet lift off the ground, making her squeal into his mouth.  When they finally pull apart, a smug smile spreads across Lucifer’s lips.

“I believe I’ve corrupted you, Diana of Themyscira,” he informs her. 

“Shut up,” Diana hisses and she pulls his head down to hers again. 

Their mouths battle for dominance.  He’s not sure which one of them is stronger, but if they are not careful, this room might be torn to shreds.  Another thing he’s unsure of, despite his words, is what’s come over Diana.  He’s never seen her so uninhibited.  Is she just this starved for sex?  He doubts that given her abilities that she is capable of falling under any spells. 

As she grabs the front of his shirt and rips it open, he soon discovers that he doesn’t necessarily care at the moment.  He’s willing to see where this goes.  As Diana runs her hands all over him, Lucifer reaches out and begins undoing the blouse beneath her jacket.  He’s considerably more careful than she is about not destroying her clothes.  This is not the place to be making a bigger mess than they already are.

By before long he has both her jacket and shirt off, leaving her naked from the waist up save for a lacy black bra. 

Diana settles her hands on Lucifer’s back and pulls him against her roughly.  Something soft and wet trails across the skin of his chest.  Her tongue, he realizes.

“Diana…” he breathes. 

“What the hell is going on here?”

Lucifer and Diana yelp and jump simultaneously.  Lucifer turns toward the door and his eyes land on Trixie with his takeout dinner.  She stares, slack-jawed from him to Diana, back to him. 

“Hello, darling, how are you?” asks Lucifer, chuckling.

If he ever thought that she would feel betrayed, or that he would be betraying her mother’s memory—which he would never do—that doesn’t seem to be the case in her look.  “We’re in a school,” she says. 

Lucifer nods his agreement.  “Yes we are, child.  How dare we forget to lock that door?”

No one seems to share his amusement as Trixie continues to frown at him and Diana covers her chest, biting at one of her nails.  Trixie turns her attention on Diana.

“I hope he doesn’t disappoint you,” she says gravely.  “My mom always said Luci Jr. was really small, too small for guy as tall as him.”

Lucifer’s eyes widen out of his skull, as a hand goes to his crotch without realizing it.  “Excuse me?” he snaps, his cheeks flushing violently. 

Trixie turns to him with a shrug.  “I’m just the messenger.  Enjoy your dinner.  I guess I'll go see if Clark and Chloe want to see a movie.”  She carefully sets it down on the floor, slides it toward him, and closes the door. 

Lucifer turns to Diana and his face melts.  She’s staring at his crotch, scratching her chin thoughtfully. 

“Oh God…” he groans. 


	55. Chapter Fifty-Four

_March 12, 2003_

_I’m back in my house.  Clark was extremely happy to see me move back in.  So happy was he that he cooked dinner for us.  I guess he was just that worried that his mother and I were going to get a divorce.  Laura was angry with me, but we weren’t going to get divorced.  Laura and I love each other too much.  Plus, in a moment of morbid humor, Laura joked with me that Oliver would haunt us forever if we divorced._

_I joked back that Oliver does haunt us.  I think that he messes with us more than he actually haunts us.  Oliver always had a good sense of humor, so why shouldn’t that continue in the afterlife?  We were quiet about that conversation.  We worry too much about the ways we joke about Oliver in front of Clark.  Not that Clark refuses talk about his late brother from time to time; I think it’s just easier for him at this point for Oliver to be a quieter memory._

_Over the dinner that Clark made for his mother and I, he pretty much threatened us with hellfire (or in his case heat vision?) if we got separated.  He was joking, but the warning stuck.  I don’t think he would hurt us, but he would still be devastated._

_Laura and I are stuck with each other until one or both of us die._

_Clark has a bit of a complicated issue.  According to him, Lana Lang seems to be hitting on him with renewed fervor.  It’s strange to hear to say the least.  I thought that the two of them have been steady friends, completely platonic.  Maybe I was wrong.  Maybe Lana was just biding her time to pursue Clark again.  Clark might as well be married to Chloe considering how faithful he is to her.  Sadly, marriage doesn’t stop people from having extramarital affairs._

_Clark is very good with girls and women, but even he can have trouble politely rejecting someone’s advances.  It’s especially difficult since Lana is someone that he gets along with.  It could be that she’s just in a more vulnerable state than usual.  Her boyfriend died overseas in combat, so it’s possible that she’s just looking for someone to fill the void.  Clark is a good young man, but he has a girlfriend._

_I think Chloe is well aware of Clark not having a wandering eye, but no one’s incapable of getting just a little bit jealous.  Clark told me that she had a few words to say to Lana.  From what he said, Chloe did not raise her voice once, didn’t even swear, yet her words might as well have been daggers.  I’ve read a few of Chloe Sullivan’s articles.  She has quite the vocabulary, so I wouldn’t be surprised if her words could hit harder than a punch._

_I haven’t told her yet, but I sent a few of her articles to the Daily Planet.  I’m currently waiting to hear back from them, but I’m confident that they will earn her a summer internship.  My biggest worry is the skepticism that might be shown towards her stories regarding meteor freaks.  I don’t want to look desperate, but I might have a few words to say if they are dismissed as the nonsense of a tabloid columnist._

_Am I biased for Chloe Sullivan simply because she’s my son’s best friend/girlfriend?  It’s possible, but I’m not ashamed of it.  Plus, I’ve known the young lady for a long time, so in some ways I consider her and her father family._

_Laura told me yesterday that she’s done some of her own digging into what Lionel might have been up to.  She said something about a “33.1.”  Officially, there’s no record of it.  Otherwise, I would know about it.  Still, Laura said that she’s heard the number thrown around.  Should I confront Lionel about it?  Will it be safe to ask him about this 33.1?  Laura doesn’t think so._

_Either way, I believe that we’ve come one step closer to finding out what’s been going on._

_My biggest regret is that it’s a secret that we have to keep from Clark._

_I hope that doesn’t come back to haunt us._

 

It’s been quite some time since Lex has been to the Queen house.  It’s been even longer since he had been the Queen mansion in Star City.  When was the last time that the Queens themselves have been to that mansion?

Considering what Lex currently knows about Clark Queen, lately he’s wondered if Smallville would have been better off the Queens never lived in Smallville.  Would it have been better if Star City was the town that suffered the problems that seem to follow Clark Queen?  Lex does have to admit that Clark has done much good for Smallville, but what about some of the destruction he’s caused, even if he always has been careful? 

Looking back, Lex is grateful to Clark for all the times that he had saved his life.  It’s a debt that he will never be able to repay.  In the long run, Lex can foresee Clark saving many more lives.  He does it really well.  If he plans on slowing down enough for people to actually see him, he will definitely have to find a way to hide his identity. 

Lex’s first thought for a solution came from his collection of Warrior Angel comics.  As cool as he thinks it would be to have a real-life Warrior Angel—which could be a fitting description for Clark—it might not suit Clark.  Clark reads books, not comics.  If anything, Lex imagines Clark dressing up something like Aragorn, or some other hero from one of those many fantasy novels he loves so much.  Or maybe he would wear something like that nocturnal caped vigilante from Gotham, but with his favorite colors?

Lex doesn’t see Clark having a bunch of gadgets, or a badass car that looks like a cross between a Lamborghini and a tank.  He has powers; he doesn’t need gadgets unless he plans to utilize his fencing and archery skills.

However, there is something else that troubles Lex. 

As great as all of Clark’s powers are, as grateful as Lex will always be for him saving his life many times over, as much as Clark seems pretty much be a servant of humanity like anybody else willing to use their abilities for good…what if he suddenly were to change his mind about all that?  What if Clark suddenly decided he had enough of helping people?  What if he decides he’s tired of saving lives?  What if one day he chose to use his extraordinary powers for evil?

When Lex shared everything he knew about Clark with Sam Lane, the general wanted to arrest Clark right then and there.  Somehow, Lex was able to convince the cigar-loving military man to hold off until the right time.  He could see where Lois Lane got her amazing stubbornness from.

What Lex was able to do, once he got the general to shut up and listen, was convince him to give Clark a chance.  Clark Queen is, or at least was, a good friend to him.  Lex is willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.  The only thing Clark needs to do is listen, otherwise things will go very poorly for him.  Lex doesn’t like it, but it is the way it is.  He can only do so much, but the Army has its way of doing things.

That’s why he’s here now.  He’s needs to speak with Clark about this.   Eventually, the Army, or somebody will come to take him away and he won’t be able to do anything to stop it. 

As he parks near the large garage, Lex remembers how much he enjoyed coming here.  Of course, he came here a bit last year, but it had an unwelcoming vibe.  Could he really blame the fact?  Clark had lost his parents in a plane crash.  As unsettling as it is that Clark survived unscathed—physically speaking—Lex just wants to offer Clark a hug.  He did just that at Robert and Laura Queen’s funeral reception.  Clark accepted the hug, but at the time, Lex didn’t understand why he felt so guilty.

Then there was the whole ordeal with the F.B.I.  At the time, Lex was flabbergasted, if not disgusted with the feds for interrogating Clark as such a vulnerable time.  What cause could the feds possibly have to place Clark Queen under scrutiny?  If Lex knew what he now knows, would he still have defended Clark as adamantly as he did?  Would he have saved his inheritance from being put into abeyance?  Clark’s recalcitrance was not without just cause—he lost the remainder of his family as far as anyone knew for heaven’s sake—but at least Lex, with the help of the Kents, and his girlfriend Chloe, were able to get him to listen.

If things go down the way Lex fears, he hopes that Clark won’t be so insubordinate. 

Being here at this old brick and wood house, Lex feels a new vibe.  It’s not the same vibe he felt when Clark and Oliver’s parents were alive, but it’s similar.  It’s a happy vibe.  It isn’t shrouded by that veil of greyness that gripped it so tightly last year.  Instead of an icy sensation of loss and despair, Lex feels a sensation of warmth and joy.  Lex lost his own brother Julian when he was but an infant, so he has no idea what it’s like to have a brother.  Plus women like Lois Lane, Chloe Sullivan, Martha Kent, and Tess Mercer come and go as they please, so it’s safe to say that this house isn’t without a woman’s touch. 

The Luthor mansion could surely use a woman’s touch.  Lex almost wants to laugh as himself over his unlucky streak with women.  First there was Desiree Atkins who was little more than a black widow.  Then there was Helen.  He loved her, despite knowing her for only a short time.  He has no idea if she’s alive or dead.  In legal terms, she is dead, but still he has a deep-rooted fear that she will one day turn up on his doorstep again. 

Lex ceases his musings and gets out of his Porsche.  To think, he briefly considered a different car obsession after the near-death experience that made him and Clark Queen friends.

With a deep breath, he walks up to the house.  Remembering the manners that Laura Queen drilled into him despite living in a small town where everyone knew everyone, Lex rings the doorbell.  No answer.  Perhaps no one is home?  He tries ringing a second time.  Once again, there is no answer.

Not willing to give up just yet, Lex starts walking around the house.  It’s not quite as large as his house, but it’s always had a homier feel to it than that castle-like mansion of his.  The smell of freshly-mown grass hits his nose pleasantly.  The Queens had a housekeeper, but that housekeeper was only ever here when the Queens went out of town.  Robert Queen was a man who made his sons work. 

Lex does have a house staff, but he’s no stranger to housework, or even farm work for that matter.  It’s been a long time, but sometimes he misses working on farms.  He hasn’t been to his family’s farming estate since he was very young.  After the death of his mother, his father just never saw any reason to revisit that property.  Much to his anger, his father sold the property six years ago.  Someday, Lex would very much like to buy back that property, or at least buy a property similar to it where he can create his own memories. 

As Lex wanders around, he comes upon the Queens’ indoor pool.  This is one thing the Queens do better than him.  Their pool is a lot nicer than his.  They use saltwater instead of chlorine.  Having had the opportunity to swim in this pool from time to time, the controlled salinity is much nicer on his skin. 

Through the windows, he does spot a lone swimmer.  Maybe this person can tell him the whereabouts of Clark.  Spotting the outside entrance, he closes the distance to it and opens it.  Stepping inside, he is immediately overwhelmed by the heat of the room.  Outside, it’s cloudy and seventy degrees.  In here, it’s humid and eighty degrees.  Lex does remember that this room has its own air conditioning/heating unit.  It’s not long before his dark suit feels heavy and sticky against his skin.

Looking into the pool, he knows who it is.  Clad in a black two-piece bathing suit, it’s Tess.  He does feel a pang of guilt.  The last time they saw each other, she revealed to him that they were brother and sister.  Technically, they are half-siblings through their father, Lionel Luthor.  She seems smart enough to have not expected him to just welcome her with open arms, but still he feels guilty for the way he just shot her down.  She’s not only a bastard like Lucas, she’s also victim of their father just as he is. 

The fact that she’s family fills him with a particular sense of concern for her.  As such, he doesn’t feel comfortable with her being involved with the Queens.  Perhaps it’s best not to bring that up. She would undoubtedly believe he’s lying if he told her he cared about her after their encounter during the holidays.

She doesn’t seem to have noticed him yet.  He goes to stand on the other end of the pool, where he waits for her to come to him.  He imagines that he looks pretty imposing, standing up straight with his hands in his pockets.

As she swims towards him, she finally lifts her head long enough to see him.  Her laps cease immediately and she nearly forgets to tread the water.  She reaches up and lifts the goggles away from her eyes.

“You’re an excellent swimmer, Tess,” Lex compliments.  “Did you ever swim competitively, if I might ask?”

“No, I have not,” Tess replies coldly.

 _She’s definitely her father’s daughter if she keeps up that coldness_ , Lex thinks to himself.  “Any chance we may talk?”

“Lex, you already told me all I needed to hear in December, so what can I do for you?” asks Tess as she swims over to the closest ladder and climbs out of the pool. 

“For starters, I’d like to say I’m sorry.”

Tess locks eyes with him as she wraps a towel around her waist.  “You know, if you had said those words four months ago, I might have been more likely to forgive you.  But I’m over it.  You hurt me, but I’m healing.”  She studies him carefully, scrutinizing him in such a way that sends shivers down his spine.  Whoever her mother was, he wasn’t able to track her down, so he has no one besides their father to compare her to. 

As such, the way she is scrutinizing him reminds him all too well of the looks their father gave him.  He doesn’t know this woman very well, and now he feels that that should be remedied.  She obviously has a certain shrewdness that he can admire.

“You didn’t come here just to attempt an apology, did you?” by her tone, it’s as if she already knows the answer. 

 “I need to talk to Clark, do you know where he is?” asks Lex.

“He’s out with Chloe Sullivan and Oliver is in Metropolis,” explains Tess.  “The soonest either of them will be back will still be late.”

“And you’re here holding down the fort?”

Tess scoffs.  “If that’s what you want to call it, then yes.”

Lex frowns.  “Do you live here?”

“No, I’m finishing up a degree at MetU and I do like to spend time here on the weekends.”

“MetU?” asks Lex, frowning.  “I would have thought you’d be an Ivy League girl.”

“I took marine biology at Stanford and transferred to MetU for my business degree,” explains Tess. 

“Would you have stayed at Stanford if Oliver had chosen to live in Star City instead of here?”

It’s very brief, but Lex does catch a small blush.  Still, it disappears as quickly as it comes.  This woman must have spent years learning to suppress her emotions.  He can relate.  “Oliver actually went to heroic lengths to get me to stay at Stanford, calling MetU a major step-down from that college.”

Finally, something that Lex and his childhood nemesis could agree on.  “You don’t seem like the kind of woman who would feel the need to be close to her boyfriend.  There’s another reason you chose to get your business degree at some school whose acceptance is much higher than a place like Stanford.  I’m sure that not even your desire to understand your Luthor heritage is the main reason you’re here.  So why are you here?”

Tess smiles contemptuously as she removes her swimming cap, letting her hair fall in loose strands around her shoulders.  “I know what you’re trying to do Lex, but I’m afraid that we’re not on that level of sharing yet.  But if you must know, there are fewer eco-friendly individuals here than there were when I was at Stanford.  Even some of your company’s projects are questionable.”

“An environmentalist,” Lex muses.  “It’s commendable.”  Coming from her, he does feel guilty about some of the projects he has approved.  One of which is a sonic wave machine that when activated underwater can decimate even a ballistic missile submarine.  The downside to it is that it also kills all marine like in its path.  One thing that he has also noticed since Tess was introduced into the Queens’ lives is the recycle bin next to their dumpsters. 

Tess’ face is a bit unreadable and it bothers Lex.  She reminds him too much of himself.  What would it have been like?  Growing up with a sister, even a bastard sister?  He’s never used the word out of context and nor would he use it out loud, but that’s what she is—a bastard.

“So why do you need to talk to Clark?” Tess finally asks as grabs an open bottle of water and takes a generous sip.

“There’s something I need to discuss with him; it doesn’t concern you,” Lex replies carefully.

“Unless you can wait until you speak to him directly, you can tell me whatever it is.”

Lex smiles at her defensive tone.  “Look at you, little sis—”

“ _Don’t_ call me ‘little sis’,” Tess whispers dangerously.

Lex ignores her.  “Already considering yourself family, are you?”  He’s clever enough to not throw up the fact that she’s a Luthor.  He’s aware that Clark and Oliver know about who her father is.  Amazingly, they didn’t throw her out to dry for being a Luthor.  Well, Clark didn’t do that to him either when they officially became friends. 

“Fine, Tess, I have reason to believe that Clark is a threat to national security,” explains Lex.

Tess pales for a moment, but maintains her posture.  “And why do you say that?  Has he committed any crimes no one knows about?”

“No he has not,” Lex admits.  “I’m sure you’ve noticed that Clark is a bit…different.”

“Aren’t we all?” Tess asks cleverly. “If we were all the same, we’d live in a rather boring world, wouldn’t you say?  Or maybe we would live in a world that would give Lois Lowry nightmares.”

“I’ve read more books than I can count, but _The Giver_ was not one of them.  I’m sure that Lois Lowry never considered this kind of different,” says Lex as he takes a seat on one of the lounge chairs.  “You know that Clark’s different, don’t you?  You know about his…otherworldliness.”

Tess scoffs.  “Otherworldliness?” she repeats.  “Are you saying that he’s an alien?  Lex, be smart.”

“Let’s agree not to insult each other’s intelligence,” Lex suggests patiently.  “Whether or not you choose to admit what I know you know, people will being coming for Clark and there will not be anything I can do to stop it.  So, you or Oliver are going to have to remind him to cooperate, otherwise things will end very badly for all of you.  I’m not even sure if I can stop anyone and everyone Clark knows from being seen as accomplices.”

Perhaps he spoke to much.  Before he can react, Tess flies at him.  In an incredible feat of strength, she lifts the lounge chair out from under him and he stumbles into the pool.  When his head emerges from the water, he feels a hand on his head.  That hand pushes downward, sending him back underwater and hold him there.

He struggles against her hand, but Tess has impressive strength.  Just as the edges of his vision grow foggy, she finally releases him.  He lifts his head out of the water again, gasping for breath. 

“There’s one thing that we can agree on, Lex,” Tess begins softly as she kneels down to face him.  “I’m not Oliver or Clark.  If I have to, I will end you if it means protecting the Queens.  Now I will let you dry those clothes, but then you are to leave.  Then you will do everything you can to keep anyone from coming to get Clark.  He has done nothing to warrant an arrest from local police, the military, the government, or whatever thugs you told about him and you know it.”

“It’s not that simple, Tess,” Lex sneers, gripping the edge of the pool to keep his clothes from weighing him down. 

“Not that simple?” repeats Tess.  “You’re Lex Luthor; you can _make it that simple_.  And you will.”

“Is that a threat?” asks Lex.  “I don’t do well with threats.”

“And I don’t do well with xenophobes,” Tess counters.  “As far as I can see, Clark has done more for the community than you have in your entire life.  Actually you know what, you can forget about the dryer.  I’m sure you have the insurance if those leather seats in that Porsche of yours get ruined.  Now, I am going to go take a shower.  When I get out, you will be gone.”

With that, she rises to her feet and walks out of the pool room.  Taking what little dignity he has left Lex climbs out of the pool and leaves as well.  Tess has made herself an enemy out of him.  Still, she would not believe him if he told her that he doesn’t want this for Clark.  It’s out of his hands. 

Even so, Tess is a Luthor whether she calls herself one or not.  Both his parents would roll over in their graves if he refused a request—or in this case a demand—from a Luthor.  It’ll be futile, but he can try to keep the military from coming after him. 

But should he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do really have to say how intense things about to get? With everything going on? 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. I've been waiting a long time to write a confrontation between Lex and his half-sister.


	56. Chapter Fifty-Five

_March 21 st, 2003_

_Clark is a little grouchy lately.  Perhaps I shouldn’t say grouchy so much I as should say tired.  On top of his schoolwork, Virgil has started having him write essays in the Kryptonian alphabet.  It’s a recent development as it took some time for Virgil to actually teach himself the language.  Strangely enough, when Chloe saw Clark writing one of his essays, she was so interested that she wanted to learn to read and write it as well.  I was amused by her enthusiasm.  Clark was just worried because she was already studying Latin._

_From what she tells me, Chloe is at the point that she can translate spoken Latin.  She’s a very intelligent young lady, I must say.  I still can’t always tell if Clark is impressed or intimidated by his girlfriend’s intelligence.  I wish I could say that men outgrow the sense of inferiority when the girls they like are smarter than them, but not all of them do.  Sometimes, even I’m a little embarrassed when Laura appears to be smarter than me.  Well, there are some things that she knows more about than I do, and things that I know more about than her._

_Anyhow, Clark has also “spoken” to his spaceship.  Apparently it has some built-in artificial intelligence with the memories and personality of his biological father.  Lately, Clark has become increasingly short-tempered.  Clark isn’t angry with any one of us, even if he has lashed out more than once—one of those times was at poor Chloe—he’s just becoming increasingly frustrated with the demands of his biological father, Jor-El.  Clark knows that we just want him to make his own choices (preferably good choices) but Jor-El doesn’t seem to understand that._

_The man is an artificial intelligence.  How much can you really expect from a computer that, despite its alien origin, still doesn’t have the same learning capabilities as a human being?  Still, Clark has trouble not getting too angry about it._

_When he lashed out at Chloe, it was over something really silly.  She was helping Laura move something and she tripped over a carpet.  Thankfully, she was okay, but she grabbed onto a shelf to break her fall and accidentally knocked over a photo of Clark and Oliver together.  She felt awful, to say the least, but Laura told her that it was okay.  Accidents happen.  Clark, who was already frustrated enough over whatever his father’s latest demands were, screamed at Chloe.  He called her a “stupid, coffee-addicted klutz.”_

_That was intolerable.  Laura, who, like me, learned a long time ago to not be afraid when Clark loses his temper, quietly told him to go to his room.  That woman scares even me when she’s angry enough.  In all the years we’ve been together, I can count on one hand how many times Laura has raised her voice when she’s angry with one finger to spare.  Clark knew better than to disobey his mother._

_As for Chloe, she stunned, if not mortified by the way Clark lashed out at her.  In the days following the incident, I don’t think she’s so much as looked at coffee.  Gabe was livid, but over lunch together at work, I explained to him that it was misplaced anger.  Still, Clark owed Chloe an apology._

_I’ve already had a chance to talk to Chloe.  There’s a noticeable difference to her demeanor when she hasn’t had coffee.  Reeling from Clark’s mean words aside, there’s a more strained quality to the way she smiles and talks.  It’s quite depressing to say the least.  So I spoke to her.  I dared to ask her if she and Clark were breaking up._

_She said she didn’t know.  I reminded her that Clark loves her.  It’s crazy and stupid how much he loves her.  Yes, he might have been a little upset by the broken picture, but the photo itself wasn’t ruined.  Picture frames can be replaced.  Chloe knew as well as I did that Clark has been very tense lately and, frankly, I’m at as much of a loss as she is in regards to how to help him relax more.  It’s been some weeks since they have even been on a proper date._

_Figuring I’d have an easier time helping my friend’s daughter cheer up, I offered to buy Chloe her favorite coffee order.  She accepted graciously.  It’s been a while since I’ve schemed with a child, but with the help of Laura, I think that she, Chloe, and I will have a fun time figuring out how to cheer up Clark._

_Also, I think I might have a few words to say to the disembodied voice of Clark’s father._

“Oliver, remind me to kill you for making me agree to this!” shrieks Tess.

“Relax, Mercy, you’re perfectly safe,” Oliver reassures her.

Tess stares dubiously at the apples sitting in each of her outstretched hands.  She locks eyes with Clark and for a minute he wonders if those green eyes are made of kryptonite.  As beautiful as they are, almost to the point that he has had naughty fantasies about his brother’s girlfriend, he wants to run as far as he can as fast as he can.

An hour ago, Clark was studying for finals with Chloe.  He wondered why she hadn’t just studied with Trixie.  She told him that Trixie preferred to study alone.  Somehow, he thought she wasn’t telling him everything.  Why wouldn’t she be open about how her relationship with her girlfriend is going?  He was entirely open with her when it came to his relationship with Lois.  He hasn’t spoken two words to Lois since her reveal that she was spying on him. 

He felt bad that she had been put in such a position.  She must really have a terrible father.  Usually, he considers himself a very forgiving person.  So why can’t he forgive Lois?  Is it because no one has ever gotten so close to him only to drop such a bombshell?  He hasn’t told Chloe what happened.  The lengths she would go to protect him, the lengths he has _seen_ her go to protect him, she might as well murder her own cousin. 

As angry as he is with Lois Lane, she doesn’t need to die, especially not by Chloe Sullivan’s hand.  It would be an entertaining fight, but when Chloe’s angry enough, she forgets Clark’s lessons and she fights dirty.

So, the two of them were studying, and Oliver again chose to bother them at an inconvenient time to play.  Clark and Chloe agree that he is making up for lost time.  Clark does indeed miss all those years that he could have played with his brother, but sometimes Oliver gets a little too enthusiastic.  One time it was shooting each other with harmless arrows tipped with small water balloons.  Now it’s shooting produce with arrows.  It’s a waste of perfectly good apples, watermelon, oranges, tomatoes, and peaches, but it is fun. 

It was one reason why their parents bought more produce than they needed.  They did need a lot to fit Clark’s inhuman appetite, and not just because of the physical labor from working on the Kent farm a few times a week. 

Maybe because he has had more nurturing, compared to Oliver’s years spent surviving, but Clark has trouble not rolling his eyes as Oliver talks him into doing stuff they did as children. 

Also, Tess was visiting, so Oliver just had to beg his girlfriend to join them.  Clark and Chloe groaned at her ignorant enthusiasm.  It didn’t take her long to realize what she had agreed to. 

Chloe and Chloe trust each other with their lives.  As for Tess, she’s a brave woman, but how many people are brave enough—or rather crazy enough—to trust someone to shoot a razor-sharp arrow in their direction at the edge of their range?  Clark’s range is considerably longet than Oliver’s, and he can tell Chloe is completely relaxed about Clark shooting apples out of her hands without hurting her.

He’s already obliterated a few apples.  The more she is covered by bits of apples—Clark can’t help thinking about it—the more delicious she looks.  The only thing that he’s really bummed about is the fact that it’s not apple-picking season.  These apples are from the supermarket.  Even though it takes the niceness of fresh-picked apples out of it, it hardly takes the fun out of it. 

It’s also entertaining for Clark seeing how Tess jumps every time he releases an arrow.  Given the velocity of his arrows, they whistle very loudly.  He’s not sure how their velocity compare to a bullet from a gun—he’s never clocked it—but he’s shattered a few feet of concrete with his arrows.  He controls the amount of velocity he puts into his arrows.  He would never pull his bowstring as far as he can when shooting in the direction of people.  He would never even shoot his strongest arrows towards people if he was asked to. 

People like Chloe trust him to not hurt her, but he doesn’t trust himself. 

If only poor Tess trusted Oliver. 

“I promise you, Tess, I am not going to hit you,” Oliver promises emphatically.  He raises his bow again and cocks and an arrow. 

By now, Clark and Chloe have stopped to witness whatever is going to happen next.  Tess is shaking so much and whimpering like an injured puppy, Clark is worried that she is going to wet herself. 

“Count with me, Tess,” Oliver encourages.  “On three, one…”

Tess takes a few deep, violent breaths.  “Two…”  Everyone jumps as Oliver—unsurprisingly, Clark must admit—releases an arrow.  In a blink of an eye, the arrow hits the apple sitting loosely in Tess’ left hand, spraying bits of apple everywhere.  It causes Tess to squeal, but remains uninjured and doesn’t wet herself. 

Oliver throws his head back and laughs.  “I said you’d be okay.”  Even Clark has to suppress a bit of startled laughter.  Chloe, even though she is smiling, is going up to Tess to try and comfort the poor woman.  When Chloe reaches her, Tess yanks her arm away. 

“I’m going to kill you!” shrieks Tess.  Clark backs away a bit as she flies at Oliver.  She lands on him and they become a tangle of limbs and dirty martial arts.  Clark has seen Tess spar before, even he has sparred with her, and she is usually quite disciplined.  There is no discipline in the way she’s throwing punches, kicks, and even a couple of bites, at every body part she can reach.

Clark goes to stand beside Chloe and he offers her a fresh apple. 

“Clark, I think I’m covered in enough pieces of apple that I could eat myself to death,” she laughs, gesturing at herself.  When she came over to study with him, she was wearing dark jeans, a low-cut pink shirt, and a black blazer.  When Oliver told them what game he wanted to play, she left her jeans on, but changed into one of Clark’s white T-shirts and tied off the hem of it.  Every time he sees her in one of his shirts, for any reason, he finds himself astounded by just how much bigger he is compared to her.   

“You do look like you’d be a delicious apple,” Clark agrees before he can stop himself as he takes a bite of his own apple.

Chloe stares up at him for a minute.  Then she giggles.  “Yeah, maybe you’re right.  We are what we eat, aren’t we?  Or in my case, what we’re covered in.”  She turns her attention back on Tess and Oliver.  She cocks her head, frowning.  “You think we should break those two up?”

Clark glances thoughtfully at his brother and Tess.  Amidst the shouting, the scuffling, and screams, he hears some uncharacteristically vulgar words from Tess.  Also, he hears Oliver laughing in between his struggles to apologize and to get Tess to stay still.  At one point, he even manages to wrap his arms around Tess’ front and his legs around hers, trapping her limbs.  She stays trapped for about thirty seconds before she shimmies down far enough to reach down and bite Oliver’s thump. 

Clark doesn’t know the extent of his brother’s pain tolerance, but it’s not enough to keep him from yelping as Tess’ teeth clamp down on him.

“Now I will,” he finally answers.  He finishes his apple and licks off his fingers.  Rising to his full height, he strides towards the fighting couple.  When he’s standing over them, literally, he puts his hands on his hips and stares down at them. 

“Enough!” he roars.  He can only scream and shout as loud as anyone around him, but he would like think that he strikes an imposing figure when he wants to. 

Oliver and Tess quit their scuffle as abruptly as if he flicked a light switch. 

“Taking ‘high and mighty’ a bit too literally, aren’t you?” asks Oliver, spitting out a little grass that got into his mouth. 

Clark smiles wickedly.  “I could descend as quickly as if I were falling and land right on top of the both of you.  And no, Tess, I would not hesitate because you are a woman.”

Tess scoffs up at him as she shoves some hair out of her face.  “You and Oliver…why can’t you have normal hobbies like game nights, sports, and playing with GI Joes?”

Clark scoffs as he descends to the ground, away from the two of them.  “In case you haven’t noticed, Oliver and I have forsaken the right to use the word ‘normal’ since I found out I was an intergalactic traveler and he became a castaway.  Speaking of which, how did you manage to survive all that time and come out with all your teeth intact?”

Oliver considers that for a moment.  “It wasn’t easy.  Do you have any idea how many times I dreamed of a dentist?”

Clark shares a look with Tess and they share a groan.  “Knowing you?  I can imagine.”

Oliver rolls his eyes.  “Okay, my fantasies weren’t always like _that_!”

“Okay, okay,” Clark says.

“What color was her lingerie?” asks Tess, surprisingly everyone. 

“Yeah, what color was it?” asks Chloe, who has decided to not wait for an invitation to join the conversation.

Clark can no longer help himself.  “I don’t think you’re getting up without answering these curious ladies.”

Oliver raises an eyebrow quizzically.  “Are you one of them?”

“Yep,” replies Clark without hesitation. 

Oliver rolls his eyes.  “Well, hmm, if I can remember correctly as my daydreams became increasingly distorted, I think her lingerie was green.  It might even have been our old dentist from Star City.”

Clark narrows his eyes.  “You mean Dr. O’Donnell?  Wow.”  He remembers that woman.  He also remembers her being quite attractive.  “You’re dirty.”

“At least my love life isn’t both complicated and in shambles.”

Clark’s face falls and an uncomfortable silence descends on the four people.  Oliver’s eyes widen and his gaze shifts to Chloe, who Clark can tell without looking is as—hurt?  Saddened?  Angered?—by the insensitive comment.  He gazes down at his lap ruefully.  Tess smacks him in the back of the head. 

Clark walks away without a word.  He knows without looking behind him who is hurrying up to catch up to him.  As he goes to sit on the porch of his house, for once feeling like the solitude of his loft would do him no good, he gazes out into the fields.  As Chloe sits down in the chair opposite from him, they share a brief glance.  Seeming to recognize that this is one of those times where silence is better, they turn their gazes back to the fields. 

Since moving to Smallville full-time, the Queen mansion in Star City essentially became a summer house.  The Queens have summer houses in Oahu, northern California, and a half hour south of Chesapeake Bay.  Clark has considered building himself a cabin.  A getaway somewhere in Appalachia perhaps and he’s told no one about it. 

He loves this place.  He has friends in Star City, among them an old Army brat friend named John Diggle, and Felicity Smoak, whose hacking skills could give Chloe a run for her money, but he doesn’t miss the hustle and bustle of the city.  One thing that he’s not looking forward to in the Arctic is the complete lack of people for an unknown amount of time.  Who knows, maybe he could befriend a polar bear. 

Yes, he would befriend a polar bear.  He would name that polar bear…Fluffy?  No, that is way too generic.  Plus, the large animal isn’t some lapdog.  He wouldn’t even name the animal Krypto.  He will figure it out.   

“Now, who do you suppose is that?” asks Chloe. 

Clark snaps out of his reverie and indeed sees a motorcycle approaching.  Oliver would appreciate that shared enthusiasm, although Clark knows him to have certain distaste for Harley Davidson.  He moves on to the people riding it. 

The driver, clearly a woman, is clad in a black leather jacket over a black miniskirt.  Her legs are clad in pale lavender fishnets and high-heeled boots that go up to her knees.  He squints and takes a peek under her helmet.  What he sees is a raven-haired young woman, maybe his age or Oliver’s age, or somewhere in between.  She’s pretty, to say the least. 

As for the passenger, Clark’s eyes nearly pop out of his skull.  He recognizes that girl.  Beneath the bruises and clear signs of malnourishment, he recognizes her.

“Lana?” asks Chloe.  “Good God, what happened to her?”

“Let’s go ask,” Clark suggests. Together, they rise from their comfortable chairs and descend the steps leading up to the house.  The raven-haired woman parks her motorcycles and dismounts it.  At least, that’s house Clark would describe it. 

She then helps Lana off the motorcycle as well. 

“Lana, what happened to you?” demands Clark, rushing over to help her. 

“Stay back!”

Clark stops abruptly and turns his attention to the motorcyclist.  “And who are you?”

“My name is Zatanna,” replies the blue-eyed woman.  “Now—Clark Queen, is it?—can you tell me why Lana insisted I bring her here instead of the hospital?”

Clark doesn’t really know how to answer that question.  He turns his attention on Lana. 

“Hey, what’s going on here?” asks Oliver.  “Oh, my God, Lana Lang is that you?”

Lana lifts her head weakly towards Oliver.  “Yes, it’s me, not the bitch whose been tramping around pretending to be me.”

“Okay, first let’s get you a glass of water and then please explain,” Clark invites.  Zatanna finally lets him approach Lana and he helps her towards the house.  “Let’s start with the bitch.”

“It’s Isobel,” Lana spits.

Clark gapes at her.  “You mean that witch who possessed you on Chloe’s birthday?”

“The one and only,” confirms Lana.  “She’s been sitting in my brain all year and then I came over one day and I accidentally touched this black rock and I…”

“Wait, black rock?” Clark repeats.  She can’t be talking about the black kryptonite up in the loft.  “When did this happen?”

“About a month ago,” replies Lana.  “I don’t know what happened, but the next thing I knew, I was staring at myself.  At least a version of myself and it was my dead ancestor, Isobel Theroux.”

Clark considers that as he leads Lana into the kitchen. 

“I thought you, or at least who I thought was you, seemed off,” muses Chloe as she grabs a glass and fills it with water from the refrigerator.  “So where have _you_ been all this time?”

“Chained in a warehouse with no latrine,” sobs Lana.  Zatanna reappears and lays a comforting arm around her.

“So how do you come into the picture?” asks Clark, addressing Lana’s new friend.

Zatanna locks eyes with him.  “Your new friend, Isobel stole something that belonged to my father and in my effort to track her, I eventually stumbled on Lana.  She was in a pool of her own filth and looked like she hadn’t had a proper meal in weeks.”

Lana laughs hoarsely as she accepts the glass from Chloe.  “I never thought I’d enjoy three cheeseburgers so much.”

Clark ponders what he’s hearing for a minute or two.  “Isobel is a witch.  If she stole something from you, it must have had something to do with magic.  And please, let’s agree not to take each other for fools.”

Zatanna smiles up at him approvingly.  “You’re smarter than I thought.  Yes, Isobel stole a spellbook, one of the most powerful in the world in fact.”

Clark’s eyes widen.  He shares a glance with Chloe and then with Oliver who has entered the room.  He might bring Tess into the loop, but at the moment it’s a little too long of a story.

“Chloe, Oliver, may we speak in private for a moment?”

The two of them promptly follow him into the next room.  When they close the door behind them, Clark speaks.

“Okay, we all know what happened last time we dealt with Isobel.”  Chloe and Oliver nod. 

“And you destroyed her spellbook,” Oliver adds. 

“Plus, you united the stones of power, so what happens now?” asks Chloe. 

“I don’t think Isobel is aware of the fact,” Clark thinks out loud.  “Oh, my God, what is she planning?”

***

“Lana, what are we doing here?” asks Pete.

Isobel smiles brightly.  “Darling, we are here to perform something extraordinary.”

“In Smallville cemetery?” asks Pete, gesturing around them.  Admittedly, it is a rather gloomy setting.  Staring at the headstones and flags around her thoughtfully, Isobel does feel a sliver of sympathy.  Happy memories or no, cemeteries are a place of mourning. 

“What are we going to do, Lana—wake the dead as we fool around?”

Isobel’s smile widens.  “That is exactly what we’re going to do, my love.”  She grabs the hem of her shirt and flings the garment over her head. 

Pete stares appreciatively at her upper nakedness.  “Damn, Lana, you are so beautiful.”

“As are you, my pet.”  As Pete walks into her welcoming arms, Isobel smiles to herself.  Until the stones are hers, the people of this town will suffer at the hands of the dead.


	57. Chapter Fifty-Six

_April 2 nd, 2003_

_Clark seems to have patched things up with Chloe, I’m happy to say.  Since he can never do things small, one of his apologies involved getting her a five-hundred-dollar gift card to her favorite coffeehouse.  I had the pleasure of witnessing that little exchange.  The intrepid reporter tried to give him that “Are you kidding me?” look, but as I saw her walk away, she looked really happy.  What is it with people—men and women—pretending they don’t appreciate something, even if it is a silly thing?  Still, Clark and Chloe are not fighting anymore, so that’s a plus._

_Clark is still frustrated with Jor-El.  As weird as it sounds, I do think that that A.I. is genuinely trying to help Clark.  His methods are questionable, and it does sound like he wants Clark to rule the world in some fashion like in most alien invasion movies, but what if that’s not exactly what he wants from him?  What if he simply wants Clark to use his powers to the best of his ability?  I don’t know how many meanings “ruler” can have, but maybe he wants Clark to be a servant of humanity._

_Clark already does a terrific job of that, but there’s always room for improvement.  If Jor-El would just be less harsh about it, he could really teach my son things that I could never teach him.  I might put excessive emphasis on “my son”, but what can I say?  I’ve raised the kid, damn it.  Jor-El might have fathered him, but I’ve raised him.  And another thing—why is there no A.I. of Clark’s biological mother?  Did Krypton have a very sexist culture?  Did Jor-El think that his wife wasn’t relevant enough to teach Clark life lessons?  Did he simply not have enough time to build a computerized version of her?  The A.I. has little emotion, so it’s hard to tell if he was a sentimental or loving._

_I guess even Kryptonians have trouble installing completely humanlike emotions into their computers.  Based on what Clark has told me, it also seems that they frown upon many emotions that are considered “human.”  If Clark had landed on Mars, or Venus, or Vulcan, would Jor-El have complained about his emotions being too Martian, Venusian, or Vulcan?_

_So, yeah, I believe that Jor-El is trying to help Clark.  His methods are awful and hell if the smartest hacker in the world could rewrite an alien artificial intelligence, but maybe Clark should just give him a chance.  It seems that Jor-El is trying to force him to leave, to go somewhere, but maybe Clark can negotiate.  What if he can convince Jor-El to lay off his demands at least until Clark finishes his high school career?_

_Maybe it’s escaped Jor-El’s notice, or there’s a different of stages in a child’s life on Krypton, but Clark can’t just drop everything and disappear.  No matter what, my son isn’t going to be a high school dropout.  Still, I can’t help giving a nod to the similarities in our cultures.  It seems that even Kryptonians have some sort of ritual that involves a boy leaving home as part of his path to become a man.  It’s tribal._

_Beyond that, Laura has been busy.  She won’t give me the name of her private investigator, but she’s shown me a large stack of disappearing “meteor freaks.”  She’s also found something regarding someone else.  I don’t know what it has to do with anything, but her P.I. found out about some guy named Davis Bloome.  He’s a little older than Clark, maybe Oliver’s age.  He’s a med student at Metropolis Medical School.  Why on Earth would Lionel Luthor be interested in a young man on his way to be an EMT?_

_In an effort to answer that question, it’s led to a very interesting discovery.  Before 1991, when he started bouncing from foster home to foster home, each of them having had gruesome accidents involved, he didn’t exist._

_I’m going to have to look deeper into this fellow.  More importantly, I need to find out why Lionel is so obsessed with him._

Oliver watches worriedly as his brother paces back and forth.  It reminds him too much of their father.  When their father was worried about something, like when Clark’s accidents attracted the wrong attention—like the F.B.I. once, when there was a solar flare and Clark accidentally destroyed a summit when the Kansas State governor was in Metropolis.  Clark felt so awful that day.  Everyone tried to remind him that it was just a power surge that he couldn’t control, but that didn’t stop him from eating all the ice cream in the house. 

Thankfully, the F.B.I. had no sufficient evidence tying Clark to the accident.  A blurry flash of blue to match Clark’s brand-new shirt their mother bought him from Saks Fifth Avenue wasn’t must to go on.  The only reason they came by in the first place is because Clark was found not far from the mess and no pocket money for a ride home.  An F.B.I. agent was kind enough to offer him a ride home. 

Oliver was raised to be honest, but since a meteor shower and the scheming of his parents granted him a little brother, he also had to learn to be a good liar. 

Speaking of which, right now they are trying to decide if they tell this fishnet-legged magician, Zatanna, about themselves.  The matter of Isobel seems urgent enough, but do they need to tell her about Clark?

Oliver quits following Clark’s pacing and exchanges glances with Chloe.  Together, they are seated with Tess on the small couch.  This room used to be a bit of a parlor, but Robert and Laura Queen didn’t drink much and smoking was prohibited in the house due to their father’s asthma. 

Clark finally stops pacing.  “I don’t think it’s a good idea to tell them.”

“Clark, I don’t either, but we’re going to have to tell them something,” says Chloe.

“It might help build a certain level of trust if we would just tell her about you,” Tess suggests wisely.

Clark glares at her and Oliver tenses up.  “Don’t look at her that way.” He doesn’t even flinch as Clark rounds his glare on him.  “Maybe while I’m at it, we’ll exchange numbers.”

Oliver gives a thoughtful nod.  “She seems pretty enough.”  The comment earns him a sharp elbow to the ribs from Tess.  He ignores it as best he can.  “But seriously, Clark, if not your powers, at least show her why you can be of help.  We all know that your powers aren’t your only asset.”

Clark raises his eyebrows.  “You and I are both archers, but a lot of people can’t put an arrow through a concrete wall.”

“Simple fix; put on your blue kryptonite ring,” Chloe suggests.  “Unless are you worried that another woman will kick your ass?”

Oliver gapes at her.  “You managed to kick my brother’s ass?”

Chloe smiles smugly.  “He taught me too well.”

“You’re going to have to show me sometime.”  Oliver means it.  He can’t think of many things more entertaining than seeing his own brother get his ass handed to him by a normal human being, especially by a girl half his size. 

“Focus,” Clark commands through gritted teeth.  “Whatever Isobel is planning, it must be happening soon, or else Zatanna wouldn’t be so worried.  I…”

The door to the kitchen bursts open, making them all jump.  “How about you all just tell me now?” suggests Zatanna, clearly annoyed. 

Clark straightens up and clasps his hands together.  “Were you listening to all that?” he asks tightly.

“I don’t need to be an expert to know that those were soundproof walls, but yes, I might have eavesdropped a bit,” confesses Zatanna.  “So you have powers, do you?  Are you a magician?”

Clark rolls his eyes and Oliver covers his mouth to stifle his smile.  “No, I am not,” replies Clark.

That only seems to intrigue Zatanna further.  “And yet you have powers.  Do explain.  After all, we’re all after the same thing, so we might as well make sure that we have a basic knowledge of each other.”

“She has a point, Bluesy,” Oliver points out before he can stop himself.  Clark doesn’t even look at him this time. 

Finally, he grumbles.  “I can fly, I can lift a 747 over my head, I can literally blow out a house fire, I can shoot fire from my eyes, I can hear cat’s paws in an alley in Suicide Slums, and I can outrun a bullet from a gun.”

Zatanna doesn’t respond immediately.  What she does do is something that Oliver knows Clark hates.  She begins to slowly walk around him; carefully taking in every detail like he’s an exhibit at a natural history museum, like the one in Washington DC their mother took them to when they were kids.

“I get it, I have all these abilities and yet I look like your average corn-fed country boy with more money than he knows what to do with, so will please quit looking at me like that?” asks Clark.

“You sound ashamed of all of it,” Zatanna points out as she ends her little tour of Clark.  “I’d think you’d be proud of all those abilities.”

Clark smiles contemptuously.  “You misread me, Zatanna.  I’m not ashamed of my abilities; I simply hate that I live knowing that there are people who see me as a freak.  Now, how about do ourselves a favor and find Isobel before anything bad…” he trails off.  Oliver knows the look that crosses his face.  He’s hearing something. 

“Clark what’s going on?” asks Chloe, getting up and closing the distance between them and squeezing his arm affectionately.  Oliver smiles at their closeness, the way that they are able to nonverbally be there for each other. 

“I don’t know; doesn’t make any sense,” replies Clark.  “Wait a minute, someone is speaking to me.  It’s Isobel’s voice.”

Zatanna perks up at that revelation.  “What’s she saying?  Where is she?”

“ _Clark Queen_ ,” Clark recites.  “ _I’ve encountered you before and I underestimated you.  I will not make that mistake again.  You know where the stones of power are and you will give them to me.  They are harmful to the touch, but that’s a small price to pay for unlimited power.  Take me to them and no one will be harmed.  Failure to do so, and I will kill everyone you love, starting with your friend, Pete._ ”  Clark stops for a minute.  “She’s laughing,” he says.  “ _I don’t need to kill anyone.  But I can’t speak for what I’ve unleashed.  Everyone in this town will suffer until I get what’s mine._ ”

Clark stops.

“What has she done?” urges Oliver.

Clark doesn’t listen.  “Where’s Lana now?” he asks, turning to Zatanna. 

“Um, I hope you don’t mind, but I laid her down on one of the couches in the living room,” she replies.  “I could tell that she hadn’t had any proper sleep in a long time, so I cast a sleeping charm on her.”

“Good, that’s probably best.”  Clark heads out of the parlor.  Truth be told, if things weren’t so seemingly urgent, Oliver would be more vocal about his concern regarding this whole matter.  He doesn’t trust people who learn Clark’s secret at the same time that they introduce themselves to him.  Clearly, no one else does either, but right now it doesn’t seem like a proper time to go by the “trust is earned” policy.  He gets up and follows after his brother. 

“Clark, what are we going to do?” he asks, hurrying to catch up to his brother.  He hears everyone else behind him. 

Clark doesn’t answer as he heads the front door.  Oliver sees him heading towards the garage, so he thinks he has an idea of what he’s going for.

“Clark, will you at least tell me what we’re dealing with here?” demands Oliver.  He almost loses his footing as he hurries to keep up.  Even when he walks at a humanly fast pace, he can be hard to keep up with.

Clark ignores him as he reaches the garage and heads to the wall where they hang most of their tools.  He twists a torque wrench and Oliver hears a latch click.  He then lifts the whole board and therein Oliver sees the bows Diana gave them, Clark’s throwing knife belt, as well as their father’s collection of handguns and rifles.  Oliver cocks his head.  He thought all their dad’s hunting rifles were in his office, or the family’s hunting cabin in California. 

“I was wondering where my bow went,” Oliver muses.  Diana and Clark swore they had no idea where they went.  He looked everywhere and never found it.  It was right under nose!  He even used that particular torque wrench.  If only he twisted it the right way. 

“Gear up, Ollie,” orders Clark, practically shoving his bow into his hands.  

“Who made you the leader?” grumbles Oliver as he strings his bow and slings his quiver over his shoulder. 

Clark rolls his eyes.  “Right now there’s a very weird sound I picked up and an even weirder smell, so we can we argue about that later?” he doesn’t wait for a response as he turns to Chloe.  “Alright, Chlo, you remember me teaching you to use this?”  He selects a Beretta and hands it to Chloe.

Oliver watches as she nods gravely.  Then she takes the weapon and he must admit he’s impressed as he watches her cock and load it.  Clark also hands her his katana.  Finally, he hands Tess a handgun of her own.  Oliver wonders why he doesn’t just hand her a couple, but he remembers their dad teaching them the impracticality of using two handguns at once.  As he put it, movies and video games, like _Tomb Raider_ , might make it look cool, or fun even, but it puts a nasty hamper on your accuracy.  Not to mention the recoil of both weapons. 

“God, the four of you look like a group of action figures.”

Oliver turns and sees Zatanna staring at each of them dubiously.  They all take a moment to observe themselves.  Truth be told, he isn’t sure yet why Clark has had them arm themselves to the teeth. 

“I’m sorry to say this, Bluesy, but she’s right,” he agrees apologetically. 

“Seriously, Clark, is there some sort of real life version of _Red Dawn_ going on?” adds Chloe. 

“I doubt it; there’d be paratroopers.”

Oliver fixes his gaze on his girlfriend.  Tess shrugs at him.  “What?  A girl can’t watch movies?”

“Are you sure Patrick Swayze has nothing to do with it?” asks Oliver, raising an eyebrow.  He makes no effort to hide his smile as Tess’ cheeks turn as red as her hair. 

“Okay, so what now?” asks Zatanna.  “Surely, you realize that by now these weapons are useless against Isobel?”

“These aren’t for her,” Clark corrects her.  “These are for whatever she’s unleashed.  Assuming Isobel and Lana were split with what I think they were split with, there’s a chance that Lana might die if we kill Isobel.  Otherwise, Lana might already be dead.  She’s Isobel’s insurance.”

“So where are we going?” asks Chloe.  “Do you have any idea of where Isobel would be?”

“No, Chloe, I don’t,” admits Clark.  “We need to head to the cemetery.  That’s where the weird sound is coming from.”

A collective exclamation of surprise to match Oliver’s goes around the group.  “The cemetery?  What could be going on at the cemetery?”

“I don’t know, but you know what’s even weirder?”

“What Clark?”  For the first time, Oliver notices the look of fear in his brother’s eyes. 

“Oliver, the sound is coming from _underground_.”

A deadly silence descends upon everyone and it seems the only one who has any idea of what could be happening is Zatanna.

 

***

 

“ _It’s not funny, Lucifer_!” squeals Diana.

“ _Oh, but it is,_ ” argues Lucifer, continuing in the woman’s native tongue.  His Ancient Greek has improved significantly since he had started growing closer to Diana.  On their way back from an outing to Metropolis, she was telling him about a time when her Steve Trevor first tried to teach her how to use a sewing machine.  She barely even knew how to sew. 

So, he tried to teach her to sew, and he ended up having to help her remove some thread from her finger after it got caught under the needle.  Even if she healed rather quickly, it had to have been painful.  Still, Lucifer can’t help laughing.

“Lucifer, it’s not my fault that spent part of my life living as if I were stuck in what is otherwise known as Ancient Greece!” Diana grumbles in English.  Sometimes, Lucifer wonders if her use of English, at least with those who can communicate with her in her native tongue, is reserved for foul moods.

She certainly doesn’t always seem to be in a foul mood when she speaks English to the Queen boys.  That being said, he’s spent quite a bit of time with her lately.  Maybe it’s because of his late wife’s influence, but he hasn’t voiced all of his thoughts with her.

He likes Diana, but he’s not certain if their relationship is something that is growing deeper.  In his opinion, they have seemed to have reached a plateau.  Their relationship had an interesting start to say the least, but he likes the woman. 

It quickly became obvious to him that she had not had a serious relationship with anyone since Steve Trevor.  He thinks it’s possible that she might be trying too hard to have with him what she had with Steve. 

They have had such a lovely evening together.  They had Greek cuisine and then took a stroll through the art gallery.  Despite his long history of being an unapologetic heartbreaker, he doesn’t want to hurt her.  She’s a tough as nails woman, but time has not healed the loss of her husband. 

If he will be honest with himself, even he hasn’t completely overcome his loss of Chloe Decker.  She’s the woman who unlocked a sense of humanity he did know he had.  If only he could go back and kick himself for his stupidity in regards to relationships, or showing is feelings for her.  He remembers the time he tried to make things less complicated between them by trying to act similar to how they were when they first met. 

It didn’t do anything, except show that he knew how to bed a woman, but not how to woo a woman.  He’s older than the human race, yet he can be about as stupid as a teenage boy.  Detective Dan “Douche” Espinoza had a more successful time wooing Charlotte Richards than he did wooing Chloe Decker at first.  Well, he must have known something if he got Chloe to love him long enough to produce Trixie. 

Perhaps Lucifer should have taken a page out of his book a little more.  Maybe it wouldn’t have taken so long to finally show Chloe how much he loved her. 

“Lucifer?”

Lucifer ceases his thoughts and turns to Diana.  She insisted on being the one to drive them around.  He’s not too fond of superfast sports cars like this Lamborghini, but it is a smooth ride. 

“What’s the matter?” she asks.

“Oh, it’s just I was wondering why you decided we had to head back to Smallville so soon,” replies Lucifer, which is perfectly true.  “I thought you were free today?”

“I know, Lucifer, it’s just I had a feeling that something’s wrong.”

“I sure hope it’s urgent enough to be driving a hundred and fifty miles an hour,” mutters Lucifer.  “I daresay you’re a better driver than I am.”

“No, just sneakier,” Diana corrects him smugly.  “I’ve never been pulled over.”

“I’ve never gotten a ticket,” Lucifer informs her, not too defensively.  He turns back to the road.  They are in farm country now on the outskirts of Smallville.  Indeed, something feels off.  Perhaps he should call Trixie. He reaches into the inside pocket of his blazer and takes out his cellphone.  However, in the middle of dialing, Diana slams her foot on the breaks. 

The force of the sudden stop makes him lose his grip on his phone and he’s amazed that the car doesn’t flip over.  No doubt she can afford to replace it, but he figures Diana would feel awful about crashing Oliver Queen’s Lamborghini.  When the car finally skids to a halt, Lucifer releases the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Lucifer, are you all right?” asks Diana, panting. 

“Yes, I’m…fine,” he replies slowly as he sees what’s out his window.  He recognizes the young lady he sees.

“Is that…Lana Lang?” asks Diana. 

“Not quite,” replies Lucifer as he unbuckles and opens, or rather lifts the door.  He steps out and approaches the leather-clad woman.  Ms. Lang is too wholesome for skin-tight leather pants and stilettos that are more painful than they are worth.  He knows from experience from having dressed up as Rocky Horror after losing a bet to his Chloe. 

“You are not Lana Lang, are you?” it’s not much of a question as he slowly approaches the young woman.

“No, Samael, I am not,” confirms Isobel Theroux.  “I suppose I cannot convince you that you are wasting your time with that woman?”

Lucifer scoffs.  “And am I supposed to believe that a woman such as yourself is a better option?  So-called Satan-worshippers, or women intent on too much power or world domination such as you is a major turnoff for me.  So, what’s happened to Ms. Lang?”

Isobel smiles wickedly, reminding him too much of the Wicked Witch of the West, only with nicer teeth. “She’s indisposed, but rest assured, no harm will come to her.”

Strangely he believes her.  “So, what diabolical plan do you have in store for the good people of Smallville?”

Isobel laughs.  “Oh, why do you concern yourself with these people?  You owe them no loyalty.  Until I have what I want, they’ll suffer.”

“You won’t get away with this, woman,” Lucifer sneers. 

“I already have, Satan,” Isobel drawls.  Then she disappears in a cloud of purple smoke. 

“What’s going on?” asks Lucifer, to no one in particular as he gazes around.  If his bearings are right, the cemetery is close by.  It’s then that he sees it.  He sees people walking away from the cemetery.  “What, did some cult meet at the cemetery?”

“Those aren’t people, Lucifer,” says Diana, gravely.  “They’re corpses.”

Lucifer rounds on her as she comes to stand next to him.  “Are you telling me that our wayward witch has caused some sort of real-life version of _Night of the Living Dead_?”

“Something of the sort, I suppose,” replies Diana.  “Oh, no…” a touch of sorrow mars her already grave features. 

Lucifer follows her gaze.  His eyes land on a couple of corpses.  It looks like they might have been in a heavily sealed coffin, a sarcophagus maybe, but they are charred far beyond recognition.  It’s depressing to even look at them.  It looks like the only way they could be identified are the wedding bands on their fingers.  “Who are those people?” he asks quietly, although he’s worried that he might already know the answer.

“That, Lucifer Morningstar,” Diana begins tightly, “Is Robert and Laura Queen.”

Lucifer groans.  “Oh, my God.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, I take no pleasure in torturing the Queen boys with this little twist. 
> 
> Also, do expect a dramatic reappearance in the next chapter. I hope I don't have to say who.


	58. Chapter Fifty-Seven

_April 10 th, 2003_

_Davis Bloome is an interesting fellow.  Is “interesting” the right word?  Should it be “tragic”?  Should it be “sad”?  Either way, there are so many feelings that I feel when thinking about that young man._

_Davis has never stayed in one foster home for more than eleven months.  I hate that I did it, but I enlisted Chloe’s help with this.  She’s young, but she’s quite the sleuth.  The reason I hate it so much, is that I asked her to keep it a secret between the two of us.  It’s a no brainer that she hates keeping secrets from Clark.  I’m pretty sure that there are little to no secrets between them.  Still, I convinced her that keeping this from him would be in his best interest._

_So, in the little space of time I gave her, Chloe found all she could on Davis. He’s never been in trouble with the law, but there have been some rather nasty incidents in his past.  Officially, none of them are directly connected to him, but in just about everywhere he’s lived, there have been extremely gruesome murders.  Based on what I’ve read, the only thing the people had in common what was left of them._

_The remains of these people went to the coroner’s office in garbage bags.  The only things that they could be identified with—if they could be identified at all—were teeth.  When there were eyewitness accounts, they all said the same thing:  “A big, scary red-eyed monster with horns all over.”  Even the eyewitnesses weren’t always lucky.  One eyewitness’s arm was missing.  It had been torn off as it were paper._

_Chloe is still digging things up, but in her own words anything before 1991 just doesn’t exist.  Considering the fact that Lionel is so interested in Davis, I asked Chloe to look into anything she could pull up about Lionel between 1989 and 1991.  It’s a lot to ask of a sixteen-year-old girl, but I trust her.  It’s taken some convincing for her to trust me.  Doing this, snooping about, investigating a man like Lionel Luthor, it puts her at risk.  It quite possibly puts her life at risk.  Chloe seems to have a love for danger, but still she wasn’t altogether sure if she could trust me to keep her safe.  I may not have superpowers, but I do have lots of resources.  I can protect Chloe and I will._

_Still, what would Clark say or do if he found out what I was asking of his girlfriend?_

_It came out as a bit snarky, which is usually how Chloe Sullivan is anyway, but one suggestion was quite helpful.  How about I just meet Davis Bloome and get to know him a bit?  It’s a good suggestion, I’ll admit.  What I need to figure out, however, is how to introduce myself casually.  I’m a billionaire businessman.  What interest could I possibly have in a young man working on being an EMT?  I gave that task to Laura.  She’s the people person out of the two of us._

_From all the trouble I’m making Chloe go through, I’m wondering if I ought to pay her.  She’s not interested in money, but I do feel like I should do something.  Perhaps I can put a good word in for her in regards to the Daily Planet’s summer internship program.  She has talent and it should be nurtured._

_I won’t ask how she managed to get her hands on it, but based on what she’s found, it seems like Lionel has been keeping tabs on Davis Bloome for a very long time.  In fact, at least two or three of the social workers assigned to Davis as he grew up were on the payroll of people who could be traced back to Lionel._

_As for things back between 1989 and 1991, based on the words of one of the Luthor Mansion’s former staff that Chloe managed to track down, there was a little boy who lived there for a time.  The little boy was a playmate of sorts for Lex, but it seemed that just as quickly as he was introduced to the Luthor household, he vanished just as quickly.  It’s like he was literally thrown away.  Beyond that, this staff member, who remains anonymous, it’s all a mystery._

_How did this boy come into the Luthor Mansion?  What interest did Lionel have in him?  Why did he get rid of him?  Is he Davis Bloome?  If the two are indeed one and the same, why is Lionel suddenly so interested in a boy he had no problem with dumping off the side of the road several years ago?_

_What I do know is this:  Davis Bloome was found in 1991 wondering around the streets just outside Metropolis._

 

Clark is not a bloodhound.  He has a strong sense of smell, but if somebody asked him to track somebody down based on smell, he’s a terrible choice.  Still, what he heard underground, the sound of tuneless gasping and rasping and clawing, was quickly followed by a rancid smell. 

He is drawn to it.  He is deaf to the words of the people around him.  Besides telling him where the sound was coming from, he hasn’t spoken a word other than telling them all to get into the Queens’ SUV.  Between the two of them, the Queen boys agree that Clark is the better driver when it comes to the SUV.  Plus, Clark is not in a negotiable mood.  So after making sure the house was locked up tight, everyone piled into the SUV, save for Zatanna who chose to follow alongside them on her motorcycle. 

Now they are on the road.  Even for Smallville, the roads are eerily deserted.  Clark slams his foot on the gas pedal.  He doesn’t listen as everyone tells him to slow down.  Clark knows exactly what he is doing.  He’s never gotten a speeding ticket and he’s never lost control of a vehicle. 

He drives to the older parts of town, towards the cemetery.  The noise is stronger now.  Now it sounds like shuffling footsteps, like people who can’t seem to lift their feet when they walk.  He grips the steering wheel so tight that he worries he’s going to ruin it. 

The comforting words of his brother, his best friend, and his brother’s girlfriend fill his ears, telling him to either calm down, slow down, or asking him why he’s so angry.  Tess less so, but Oliver and Chloe should know better.  He’s not angry.  He’s afraid. 

Perhaps they do know better.  Maybe without meaning to, his fear is manifesting itself into something resembling anger.  Still, he hasn’t lost his temper. 

“Clark, watch out!” screams Oliver.

In a flash, Clark realizes he’s lost focus on what’s in front of him.  Zatanna has already slowed to a stop.  He slams his feet on the brakes.  It’s a good thing that this car is four-wheel drive.  At the speed he was going, if it were front-wheel drive, he might have flipped the car over before he has any time to rush out and cushion its impact.

The car skids to a halt.  The indignant exclamations at his sudden stop quickly die down as they see what is in front of them.

“Chloe, I think we have just found your Wall of Weird’s next update,” says Oliver, always being the one to break a stunned silence.  

Chloe seems not to pick up his comment as Clark hears her follow him out of the car.  Without closing the car door, he slowly steps away from it.  His ears and now more abundantly his nose, didn’t lie to him.  

Moving collectively, as if in a herd are…people?  Can _people_ even be considered an appropriate term?  They look like people; they move forward like people; they sound like people (if for some reason they all decided to sound feral); but they _don’t_ look like people. 

These…people, if they can even be called that, look strange.  Some of them are nothing but bones and clothes that have long decayed beyond recognition.  Decayed.  That’s a proper word—an excellent word—for it.  Others who are not as far gone are leathery with only a few bits of flesh still clinging to what’s left of their bodies, a crudity of whoever they used to be.  Some are just pasty with eyes that have lost all their pigment, reminding Clark of a real-life zombie horror film. 

Zombies?  Clark focuses his hearing.  His own heart feels like it’s gripped with an icy clutch as his keen ears pick up no heartbeats other than that of his friends and new acquaintance.  He doesn’t realize just how terrified he is until he feels a warm, familiar grasp around his arm.  He jumps slightly and his eyes land on Chloe.

He locks eyes with those emerald orbs of hers and in those eyes he sees the same terror that grips him.  He wants nothing more than to seek the safety of her arms like he had so many times over the years.  He wants to lock her in his grasp until her fears have been banished.  This just isn’t the same. 

“Clark, look out!” screams Tess.  Clark tears his gaze from Chloe and indeed a few of the corpses are trudging after them. 

One of them reaches him and takes a swipe at his face before he can react.  He left his bow in the car.  Chloe steps in with the katana he gave her.  She takes a ferocious swing at the corpse.  The corpse’s head flies off its shoulders and bounces along the pavement with a sickening thud.  If the smell of death was bad before, it’s worse now. 

Chloe’s self-satisfaction is short-lived as the corpse falls to its knees and gropes around until it finds its head.  Clark almost wants to vomit as the corpse basically screws its head back on as if it was a Lego minifigure.

“That’s just not fair!” complains Oliver, voicing Clark’s thoughts. 

“Oh, you idiots…” growls Zatanna.  She shoves past everyone and then reaches out with one hand.  She then says something that sounds like Latin and her eyes glow purple for a minute.  Clark saw the same thing happen with Isobel, so he tenses up a bit.  Still, as her—incantation, Clark thinks the term is—continues, the corpses coming towards them burst into flames, turning to ash as a strangely fast rate. 

When all of them are gone, her incantation comes to a stop and her eyes return to their normal shade of blue.  She pants, hard.

“Okay, Zatara, what the hell is going on here?” demands Oliver. 

“It’s the ‘Walk of the Dead’,” the reply does not come from Zatanna, but rather Tess.  Everyone turns to her. 

“Oh, it’s nice to see that I’m not the only one aware of black magic lore,” Zatanna remarks, sounding genuinely impressed.

“Care to elaborate?” asks Oliver. 

“These corpses are not the zombies you see from the movies where you can just blow their brains out and they are dead,” explains Tess.  “To be conjured, the conjuror would have to have had something belonging to at least one of the deceased.  Also, there is a price.” 

“What’s the price, Mercy?” Oliver presses, gentler. 

“To be blunt, the conjuror must have sex with someone.  It doesn’t matter if there is love involved; just pure ecstasy.”

“If this is indeed the work of Isobel, who could she be having sex with?” asks Chloe.  Then she shares a look with Clark and comprehension dawns on them.

“Oh, my God, Pete,” Clark mutters.  “Where would Isobel be?”

“She would have to be in the cemetery,” replies Zatanna.  “She wouldn’t be able to perform the spell anywhere else.”

“I’m going after her.” Clark starts heading in the direction of the cemetery, but he hears that Latin again just as he is about to burst into superspeed.  He stops and turns around with a satisfied expression.  He shows a surprised Zatanna his wrist. Her eyes fall on the clear-crystal bracelet.  For once, he’s glad that he chose to start wearing it all the time.  Chloe and Lois both say that it looks great on him, even if only Chloe knows what it’s for.  Seeing the bracelet flash with color, he knows that it is working.

Zatanna rolls her eyes and stops whatever she is trying to do to him.  “That’s clever, Queen.  But in case you haven’t realized, your weapons are useless against magic.  I can enchant those throwing knives and that pretty bow of yours in the car, but do have anything else to offer?  Fire is all that can stop these things.”

Clark smiles wickedly.  “Well it just so happens that I have something that might work.”

“And what’s that?”

Clark focuses his eyes on another oncoming corpse.  He tries to ignore the fact that it might have been someone’s family once as he activates his heat vision.  He’s never directed his heat vision at anyone, other than Chloe once to help cauterize a nasty cut on her leg when they had nothing else handy.  This is not a person, but a corpse going up in flames. 

When the corpse is gone, Clark’s heat vision stops.  He breathes heavily.  If he wasn’t sick to his stomach before, he’s definitely sick now.  He turns to Zatanna, who looks a bit impressed considering the strange feat that he just performed.

“So what now?” he asks.  “Not all of us have magic or, in my case, heat vision.”

Zatanna smiles mischievously.  “You think that weapons can’t be enchanted?”  Without waiting for an answer, she begins to slowly walk around the…team Clark might as well call it?  It’s a motley, ragtag team of people, but it’s all he can muster at the moment.  He watches her carefully as she stops by everyone in turn and mutters a few what must be spells.  Their weapons begin to glow with a subtle tint of purple.  Oliver is the first person she stops at and he regards one of his arrows as if it’s a dirty sock from the school locker room.  Tess and Chloe seem slightly more intrigued.  Tess seems to know more about magic than any of them thought.  As for Chloe, weird things don’t make her cringe; they excite her.

“I just have to ask, will we turn into zombies if these things bite us?” asks Oliver. 

Zatanna grumbles.  “Oliver Queen, these corpses are the result of necromancy.  They won’t bite you; they’ll rip you to shreds.  As you can see, one of them already gave your brother that gash on his cheek.”

Gash?  Clark touches his cheek where the zombie took a swipe at him and finds that it is wet and sticky.  He pulls his fingers away and looks at them.  Indeed there is blood.  If the crystal bracelet protects him from magic, why are these zombies able to harm him? 

“That’s nice little lucky charm that you boys have, but they won’t save you from everything,” explains Zatanna gravely.  “So do yourselves a favor and try not to let these things touch you.”

“I need to make a call,” Clark says.  He fishes out his phone and scrolls through his contacts until he finds the Kents’ number. He knows that at least Martha has a cellphone, so he tries that one first.  He can barely stand still as he waits in vain for the woman to pick up.  At last she does right before it goes to voicemail.

“Clark?” asks Martha’s voice. 

“Oh, thank God,” Clark breathes.  “Aunt Martha, where are you and Uncle Jonathan right now?” 

“We’ve locked ourselves and Claire in our house,” replies Martha.  “Clark, what’s going on?  Why was Jonathan attacked by a man who looked like he had been dead for three years?”

Clark stammers.  “Just stay there, Aunt Martha.  I’ll send some people your way.”

“Be safe, Clark,” says Martha and the line disconnects.  When he puts his phone away he turns to Oliver.  “Oliver, I need you go to the Kent farm with Tess and Chloe.”

When the Kents are involved, Oliver is in no mood to object.  He nods. 

“Wait!” exclaims Chloe.  “Clark…”

Clark walks over and grasps her shoulders gently.  “Chloe, you’re a badass fighter, and it’s awesome, but right now I need you to do this for me.”

Chloe jumps into his arms and wraps her arms around him tightly.  “Be safe,” she whispers into his ear. 

“You too, Chlo,” he whispers back, holding her close. 

Eventually, they break apart and Chloe follows Oliver and Tess back to the SUV.  She stops to lock eyes with Clark only once before she climbs into the car.  Clark watches until the SUV disappears down the road.  Finally, he turns to Zatanna. 

“I’m not usually good with partners, but what do you say we go on a witch hunt?” suggests Clark.

Zatanna crosses her arms indignantly.  “And what does that make me?”

Clark’s cheeks flush a bright scarlet, feeing ashamed of his poor choice of words. 

“Whatever, just hop on,” says Zatanna, mounting her motorcycle.

Clark smiles broadly.  “Oh, I think you’ll see that I can keep up on my feet.” 

Zatanna frowns, but starts her engine and speeds off.  Clark runs after her and together they head towards Smallville cemetery. 


	59. Chapter Fifty-Eight

_April 15 th, 2003_

_I did something that might not have been the best idea.  I was having lunch with Lionel and we were discussing business as usual.  As usual, our different approaches on how we do business landed us in an argument.  Quite frankly, after all this time arguing, I’m tired.  I’ve been tired of it.  As I look back, I can count on one hand how many times we’ve reached an agreement without any argument.  One was for Toys for Tots drive for $400,000 worth of toys for Laura’s Homeless Children Foundation.  The second was the demolition of a subsidiary industry building belonging to one of our subsidiaries.  The third was making sure a former business partner of ours who turned out to be a serial pedophile got the harshest sentence possible that the state of Kansas would allow.  That’s it._

_So, onto what I’m feeling was a bad idea.  I don’t even remember what we were discussing anymore, but somehow I managed to sneak the name Davis Bloome into the conversation.  I do remember Lionel’s reaction.  It was a calculated effort, but behind his cool confusion, I could tell that the name was familiar to him.  Unsurprisingly, he answered with a purely innocent—or at least as innocent as a man like Lionel Luthor can muster—“Who?”_

_I kept it as casual as possible.  Being a businessman has taught me to be a good liar, and sometimes—or at least I hope—I’ve managed to fool even Lionel.  So, I thought up a very convoluted lie.  To explain why I brought up the name, I told Lionel that he was a simply an intern under my personal tutelage.  He would soon be starting his first day on the job._

_In what I knew to be a measured tone, Lionel asked me how I met this particular intern.  I told him that not long ago I had a series of interviews with a number of job applicants for the internship.  That part was true actually.  Only I landed myself with a different intern.  The intern was actually Tommy Merlin, who is about Oliver’s age._

_Lionel asked why he was only just finding out about this.  He could have helped me with the decision-making.  I jokingly asked, “Well do you tell me everything_ you _do in your personal business?”  Lionel’s expression was unreadable for a minute or two.  It was meant as a joke, but it was far too true.  Eventually, Lionel began chuckling, telling me that he supposed that was true._

_I began chuckling with him and it became one of those rare moments that we just laughed as friends and not as tense business partners._

_Still, I could tell that the fact that I brought up Davis Bloome struck a nerve with Lionel._

_I’ve given it some thought and now I’m thinking that it might not be a bad idea to seek out Davis.  Perhaps I should meet the young man.  Why would this young man create such a fuss?  Why did bringing him up cause Lionel to show something that I have only seen a handful of times—fear?_

_I’m not sure if this is one of those questions that I can stand to leave unanswered.  I’m going to meet him._

 

Chloe hasn’t ridden with Oliver enough to know who is better behind the wheel.  However, she does feel that he is better suited for motorcycles than cars.  She sits in the back seat of the car with both windows rolled down. 

“God if only this car had a sunroof and a machine gun,” she mutters to herself as she keeps a keen eye on everything as Oliver drives towards the Kent house.  Tess does the same from the front seat.  Oliver wanted them to keep their eyes peeled for any zombies that they might see. 

Chloe has seen some strange things in Smallville, but this has to top all of them.  Zombies!  Why zombies?  She might appear less freaked out about it than Oliver or Tess, but she has already encountered enough weirdness—almost on a weekly basis sometimes—that it’s become second nature.  Still, some things surprise her.  She’s heard of necromancy, but only in some of the fantasy novels that she’s read.  Her reading lists have not been limited to books about and by journalists.  Admittedly, it might have been Clark’s nagging from time to time to actually get her to read fantasy that wasn’t on her school reading lists.

No author is exactly the same in their approach to necromancy, but they usually have the same basic principles.  Dead bodies conjured by a witch or wizard to do their bidding. 

“So, Chloe do you have any idea what’s going on?” asks Tess.

Chloe tears her eyes away from the surrounding fields and locks eyes with the redhead.  “Why are you asking me?”

It’s Oliver who replies.  “You’re closer to Clark than anyone.”  Chloe feels a twinge of guilt over the note of jealousy she hears in his voice. 

She sighs as she relaxes her grip on her gun.  “Now this is just a hunch, but I think that the witch who raised these corpses—Isobel Theroux—is after the stones of power.”

Oliver stares as her through the rearview mirror.  “You mean the stones Clark assembled and took to the Arctic?”

“Stones of power?” repeats Tess, confused.  “What are you talking about?”

Chloe and Oliver share a look again.  “Should we give her the short version or the long one?” asks Chloe.  She’s not even sure if there is short version. 

Still, Oliver launches into a surprisingly brief explanation of what they are.  He leaves out the Queens’ quest for them by simply explaining them to be three stones, each with their own individual powers, that when assembled form the stone of knowledge.  According to lore, assembling them can grant the assembler powers.  Since Clark was the one who assembled them, there’s no knowing what they could have done in the wrong hands.  When he took it to the Arctic, it created a giant castle of crystal and ice. 

“There you have it,” Oliver finishes as they reach the drive into the Kent farm.

“So, now that Clark has assembled them, what does that mean for this Isobel witch?” asks Tess.  “What’ll happen when she learns that this quest of hers has failed?”

Oliver and Chloe exchange glances again.  She can’t read minds, but if he’s thinking what she is thinking, then his answer is the same as hers.  Neither of them wants to have to say it.

“I have no idea,” Chloe finally replies. 

“Oh, my God, what’s happening?” breathes Oliver. 

Chloe snaps to attention and leans in to get a better view out the windshield.  Her eyes widen in horror at what she sees.  A number of zombies are trying to get into the house!  It looks like Jonathan boarded up every possible entrance, but the zombies are still trying to get in.  She hears shotgun blasts, followed by splatters of rotten blood, or whatever is within those zombies. 

 _Just how many bodies were there in Smallville cemetery?_ Chloe asks herself.  She wonders if the zombies include the bodies of people from the Kawatche tribe, wherever their sacred burial grounds might be.  Then again, how many people are just simply wasting their bullets on these things?  

It looks like Jonathan hasn’t figured out that the only way to really get these zombies to stay dead is incineration.  Knowing how stubborn the man is, she wonders if he will even accept their help, or if they can convince him to move to an even safer location.

“Alright, alright, ladies let’s see if the enchantments Zatanna put on our weapons actually work,” suggests Oliver.  The SUV skids to a halt and each of them jump out of the car.  Chloe tosses Oliver his bow and quiver and he grabs them both.  He takes out a few arrows and sticks them into the ground.  As instincts take over, Chloe doesn’t even reach for her gun.  She unsheathes Clark’s katana and charges towards the zombies.

“Chloe, wait!” shouts Oliver, but she doesn’t listen.  A few zombies seem to have notices her and they start hobbling in her direction.

She starts slashing at whatever she sees.  As she does, probably due to the enchantments Zatanna put on their weapons, the zombies disintegrate in clouds of smoke and flame.  The smell is awful, but Chloe presses on.  Around her, arrows and bullets from Oliver and Tess respectively whiz past her.  She’s really in the fray now and it feels like the zombies are coming at her in all directions.  Even ones who are still in the process of putting themselves back together after Jonathan’s shotgun blasts are coming at her in whatever way they can.

All the times that she sparred before, it was with Clark.  A few times, he took her to a warehouse where he had set up an elaborate obstacle course.  Back to back, they would fight off props that would come at them at deliberately random intervals.  The randomness helped create a sense of chaos.  That simulated chaos couldn’t possibly prepare her for this. 

Those simulations, even if she barely came out unscathed—one time she broke her arm and Clark held her close for the whole three hours it took for her arm to heal—she knew she could come back and try again.  This must be that same adrenaline that soldiers feel when they go into battle for the first time.  If Chloe screws up, there will be no second try.  She’s not wearing any armor and she can only pray these things don’t get their hands on her. 

Her own survival is the only thing on her mind right now.  All of these things seem to only be concerned about ripping her to shreds.  She doesn’t want to be ripped to shreds.  Another thing that drives her is that these things can hurt Clark.  Her ruthlessness, as of yet, knows no boundaries when it comes to protecting Clark.  Maybe that will come back to haunt her eventually, but that doesn’t matter to her right now.

It feels like forever but soon there are no more zombies.  She’s still swinging around wildly when she hears Oliver’s voice. 

“Chloe?  Chloe!” he shouts. 

Eventually, her vision registers his presence.  He’s standing outside of her swinging radius with his hands raised in surrender.  As she collects herself, Chloe figures she looks like a crazy girl, brandishing a katana and still wearing Clark’s white T-shirt which is now covered in nicks and tears wear zombies have tried to grab her.  Her cream-colored bra is showing through in some places.  The only things that are intact are her dark jeans and boots.

“I’m about sick of zombies,” she mutters, even if it’s been less than an hour.  She observes the katana thoughtfully.  There’s not a drop of blood on it.  Would it have been different if these zombies were reanimated by a virus, like out of the movies?  In an effort not to think too hard on it, she sheathes it.   

“Okay, now let’s see if the Kents are okay,” suggests Oliver.  He closes the trunk and Chloe and Tess follow him up to the yellow house.  They slow down once they reach the porch.  Once he reaches the door, Oliver straightens up and, as if it was a normal day, he rings the doorbell.  Chloe hears the cocking of a shotgun from within. 

“Who is it?” demands the voice of Jonathan Kent. 

“Uncle Jonathan, it’s Oliver Queen,” Oliver replies in an even tone.  “We just want to make sure you, Martha, and Claire are safe.”

“We’re fine, Oliver,” replies Jonathan.  “Why did your weapons work when ours didn’t?”

Chloe is sure that Oliver is aware of Jonathan’s distaste for saying it’s complicated.  “A…magician enchanted our weapons, so that’s why we’re able to use our weapons.  Otherwise, the only thing that is effective against these things—if you don’t want them to put themselves back together—is to incinerate them.”

It takes a moment or two for Jonathan to answer.  “Alright, alright, what should we do?”

Oliver thinks about it for a minute.  “Um, just stay locked in the house.  Keep Martha and Claire safe.” 

“Be safe out there,” orders Jonathan.  “I don’t want to have to attend your funeral twice in one life.”

An uncomfortable silence befalls the group.  “I don’t plan on dying, Uncle Jonathan.”  He says it with his usual wryness, but Chloe can see the graveness in his eyes.  He won’t die if she and Tess have anything to say about it. 

“Oh, Oliver, try heading to the high school,” explains Jonathan.  “Some people on the phone are all saying that they are taking refuge there.”

Oliver nods.  “Okay, then that’s where we’ll go.”

“Good hunting, Oliver,” Jonathan says. 

Oliver doesn’t say anything.  The zombies having been vanquished, Oliver, Chloe, and Tess all head back to the SUV.  Chloe is the one who takes the wheel this time and one everyone is in the car, she turns the ignition, shifts into drive, and slams her foot on the gas.  The SUV surges forward.  There is almost nobody on the road.  There are a few abandoned cars, some of which show gruesome remains of people who had been ripped to shreds.  Oliver and Tess by their opened windows, ready to shoot at anything moving that looks decomposed.

Chloe gets them to the high school in about two thirds of the time that it normally takes to get there.  She might have gotten there sooner if it weren’t for the fact that she had to navigate through a few cars.  As they arrive at the school, she sees that Jonathan was right.  Abandoned vehicles flood the parking lot in a haphazard manner, making it look like people had gotten here in a hurry.  She sees a few zombies here and there, wandering around aimlessly.

Not even bothering with a parking space, Chloe brings the SUV to a halt.  Quickly, the three of them grab their gear and rush out of the car, towards the front door of the school.  Oliver is the first to reach the doors and starts banging on it, yelling for someone to open up. 

“Someone let us, now!” he shouts.  “Is there anybody there?”

All too soon, zombies start coming towards them and it’s too much for all of them to handle.  Eventually, someone appears on the other side of the door.  Chloe recognizes the guy from the football team.   

“Please, buddy, we’re not zombies; just let us in!” pleads Tess.

The football player hesitates for a minute, but soon Chloe hears what sounds like a bunch of locks clicking open.  The doors swing open just as zombies reach them.  Together, everyone bursts through the doors.  Oliver stays behind to help the football player slam the doors shut again.  They have to struggle to keep them closed as the zombies struggle to break through. 

“Chloe, Tess, somebody get the locks!” shouts Oliver. 

Even as he speaks, Chloe and Tess are rushing towards them.  Tess grabs them first and she frantically starts locking all the padlocks.  If there are more of her classmates in here, they should gather as many combination clocks as they can if they haven’t already. 

Once all the locks are in place, Oliver and the football player relax. 

“Thanks, man,” pants Oliver as he regains his breath. 

The football player grunts.  “Don’t mention it.  I wasn’t even supposed to let anybody in.”

“Why, did somebody take charge?” asks Tess. 

The football player curls his lip in disgust.  “Dawn Stiles of all people.”

 _Oh, brother,_ Chloe thinks as she exchanges glances with her friends.  She knows that she has told Oliver about that preppy bitch.  Maybe he in turn told Tess about her. 

“Well, let’s see if we can change that,” suggests Oliver.  “I think a lot of people won’t mind having someone besides her…” he stops midsentence as he looks out the window, which looks close to being shattered.  He staggers backward a little and Tess and Chloe rush towards him.

“Ollie, baby, what’s wrong?” asks Tess comfortingly. 

Oliver points a shaky hand towards the doors as tears spill from his eyes. 

Chloe follows his finger and sees what he’s pointing towards.  Her heart sinks and all she wants to do is wrap her best friend’s brother in her arms.  If she will be honest with herself, she isn’t sure if she would have felt better or worse if it had been Clark who had seen this.  The zombies are beyond recognition, but she recognizes the wedding band on one of them. 

It’s the corpse of Laura Queen.

***

Clark and Zatanna walk through the cemetery with caution in their steps.  They arrived only minutes ago and so far they haven’t encountered any zombies.  The place is in ruins.  Most of the tombstones are still intact, but mounds of earth lay all over the place.  These zombies clawed their way out of the ground.  He also sees chunks of stone, granite, and concrete.  He suspects that those were cases that caskets were placed in.

Were these zombies given super-strength?  Why else would they have been able to bust through tougher substances? 

The whole thing feels like something out of a black and white horror film, or an R.L. Stine novella.  He had only read a handful of those books growing up, but Oliver loved them.  In terms of horror, Clark preferred the works of H.P. Lovecraft. 

“Where would Isobel be?” he asks.

“She could be anywhere,” replies Zatanna.  “We’ll also have to get her away from whoever she is using for sex.”

As if on cue, Clark’s ears pick up a girlish squeal that can only be described as a cry of ecstasy.

“Follow me,” he orders.  Zatanna follows him without question.  Usually, his partner in crime is Chloe, but this is one of those occasions that he needed someone with a different area of expertise.  He and Zatanna weave their way through the mess of earth and empty graves.  He already had to save Zatanna from falling into one of them, lest she twist her ankle.  Given the looks she has been giving him, he wouldn’t be surprised if he was fueling a crush that she might have on him. 

If only women could understand that he’s more than just looks and heroics.  All things considered, he thinks that Lois was one of those few that saw past all of that, even if his powers freaked her out.  From the way it looked though, she was just upset that there was a good reason that her father was suspicious of him. 

It’s not long before Clark sees a mess of brown hair and the bare back of a young woman.  It looks like Lana, but Clark knows that it is Isobel.  He’s thankful that he grabbed his bow from the SUV before Oliver drove off with everyone else.  He selects an arrow and cocks it. 

He clears his throat politely.  “Excuse me, _Mademoiselle_ Theroux, is it?”

Isobel’s thrusts stop immediately.  A chuckle escapes her throat, an awful sound that sounds nothing like Lana Lang.  “Clark Queen.”  She dismounts whoever she was just having sex with and rises to her feet.  Clark averts his eyes, waiting for her to turn around so that he can focus on her eyes. 

Isobel laughs again.  “Oh, come now, does this body not pleasing to the eye?”

“I am just about sick of seeing naked women that I am not dating,” Clark mutters to himself.

“Just how many naked women have you seen, you pervert?” demands Zatanna, having heard him. 

“Oh, don’t sound so indignant, sorceress,” Isobel laughs as she covers herself with a dark robe.  “Clearly he is too much of a gentleman to take up the opportunity to see through a woman’s clothes.”   

Clark ignores her.  “What you want, Isobel?”

Isobel cocks her head, as if he just asked a very silly question.  “I’m sure you know what I want.  The stones.  Give them to me and I’ll lift this curse.”

Clark is starting to wonder if he assembled the stones too soon.  “I…I can’t give them to you,” he explains flatly. 

Isobel studies him for several long minutes.  Her eyes widen dangerously.  “You’ve already assembled them.” 

Clark shrugs.  “Quite honestly, I don’t know if they would have been of any use to you,” or even the Teagues.  He hasn’t seen or heard from them since Jason Teague skipped town, but he does remember how much Genevieve Teague spoke of them from eavesdropping on his parents’ Veritas meetings. 

Isobel’s expression darkens and Clark starts to feel the earth shake around him.  She then throws her head back and lets out an earsplitting scream.  Magical energy—or whatever it is—explodes from her in all directions and Clark has to cover his eyes. 

 _I just made things worse, didn’t I?_ he moans to himself.     


	60. Chapter Fifty-Nine

_April 22 nd, 2003_

_I met Davis Bloome a couple of days ago.  I don’t know what I was expecting.  Mostly because of my growing distrust of Lionel, Davis came to my office at Queen Tower.  If I was going to lie to Lionel, the least I could do was making sure that it seemed true._

_If I was actually planning on hiring Mr. Bloome, I would have.  The young man came to my office wearing a clean suit and tie.  I don’t know if he knew this wasn’t exactly an interview, but he did bring his résumé.  Out of courtesy, I took a look at it.  He has had a few jobs here and there, but he is in EMT training.  If this was an interview, I would have had to reject his application.  It’s nothing personal; he just doesn’t have the skills I require._

_When I asked him to tell me a little bit about himself, he didn’t launch into his life story the way some applicants do.  He simply described himself as a hardworking individual whose simple desire is to help people, hence the EMT career.  I asked why he didn’t want to become a doctor instead which would have promised him a higher salary, but I didn’t add that.  Mr. Bloome said that being an EMT gives him a better chance to be on the scene.  So, he sees the appeal of being a first-responder.  I can respect that._

_I kept it casual, but I asked him about his childhood.  Where did he grow up?  What are his parents like?  Did he have parents?  Many of these questions I already knew the answers to, but I wanted to hear what he had to say.  From the way that he lost some of his composure, seeing a deeper strain in his effort to so much as sit up straight, I could tell that this was a difficult subject for him to talk about.  No doubt he wondered why I wanted to know._

_I simply told him that I like to get know the people that I take an interest in.  If some things did indeed make him too uncomfortable, then I promised not to pry._

_Mr. Bloome said that he had no parents growing up.  He was in and out of foster homes and despite his efforts he was unable to find anything regarding who his birth parents might have been.  In his words, they might not have existed in the first place.   I told him that everyone has parents.  It was something of a fatherly effort to coax some confidence into the young man, but I would venture to say that his doesn’t have parents._

_We spoke for about a half hour before getting up and saying our goodbyes.  I don’t know why, but I gave Mr. Bloome my business card, saying he could call me if he ever needed anything._

_That very evening, I had one of my people follow—discreetly of course.  Instead of waiting restlessly to hear back from my employee, I busied myself with my family.  At the end of next month, we’re planning on a trip out of town.  I don’t know where yet, but I feel that we could all really use some time away from the house.  Clark only ever seems to grow increasingly tense with Jor-El’s constant demands.  He’s also doubling the amount of work he usually does around the Kent farm.  With Martha in her early stages of pregnancy, mostly due to Jonathan “making her do it,” she’s not moving around as much._

_Even so, Clark has his limits.  One of these days, he is going to wear himself out completely and knowing him I am sure that the results won’t be pretty.  So, we had to really encourage him to just take a break.  I don’t like using it in that fashion, but I joked that if he didn’t take a break, I would fill the Kent farm with green meteor rocks.  I keep forgetting to say “kryptonite.”  I spent more time just calling them “meteor rocks” or “green meteor rocks.”_

_Anyway, it had the desired effect.  Like any teenager, Clark can be a little stubborn about actually spending time with his family and not just his friends, but he never misses up on an opportunity to have an outdoor game night with us.  It was pretty hot that evening and we filled up a few buckets with water balloons.  We had a lot of balloons, so Laura and I were perfectly okay with Clark inviting Chloe over.  Lately, Clark and Pete Ross have grown a bit distant. I think the burden of Clark’s secret is bearing down too heavily on the poor kid._

_Clark also invited Lex Luthor.  Lex and I have a tense relationship, but he doesn’t have much of a family.  I’m sure one day, if he lets himself feel that kind of experience, he will have a wonderful family.  I believe him having a wife and child will do him good.  However, I’m a bit distrustful of this Helen Bryce woman he’s been courting.  They have only known each other a short while, having met in anger management of all places, and things are moving a bit too quickly._

_He should slow down.  Courtship is a marathon, not a sprint.  I’m sure different times work for different people, but still if you go about the stages of a relationship too quickly, it can lead to bad results._

_Honestly, I don’t want to see that happen to Lex._

_Moving on, this evening I got back some results from the man I had follow Davis.  What he showed me shocked me to the core.  I am very happy that my employee was okay, but he must have been very lucky.  Some of the photos showed blurry glimpses of something that was clearly not human.  If I sent the man to look into Davis Bloome, why am I getting images of something that is apparently big, black, red-eyed, and with horns all over?  Not to mention the gruesome remains of what had to have been people that would have to be transported to the morgue in buckets._

_I think there’s more to Davis Bloome than meets the eye.  I’m not sure if I’m going to like all that I find._

 

Clark is grateful for the bracelet around his wrist.  Whatever it is that Isobel is doing, it can’t be good.  Zatanna already seems to be having enough trouble trying to block herself from the magical energy, reciting some sort of spell that he can’t make out.

Isobel throws something that looks lightning towards them.  Thinking quickly, Clark throws himself in front of Zatanna, shielding her from the lightning.  The lightning deflects off of Clark easily.  From behind him, Zatanna mutters a spell and similar lightning shoots towards Isobel.  Immediately, Clark shoots his heat vision towards Isobel.

Isobel deflects them easily.  Despite the thought that it will come back to haunt him, Clark heaves up a tombstone and hurtles it as hard as he can towards her.  Likewise, Zatanna mutters a spell and several tombstones lift from the ground and shoot towards Isobel.  Still, they can’t seem to penetrate Isobel’s defenses any more than she can penetrate theirs.

This time, Zatanna steps out from behind Clark and shouts a spell again.  Whatever the spell was, it causes lightning to crash around Isobel.  Clark doesn’t have that kind of power, but he shoots his heat vision towards Isobel as hard as he can.   

Their combined powers hit Isobel and an explosion of light erupts and even Clark has to shield his eyes.  Soon, he hears an awful cackling sound and he opens his eyes.  As things clear, he sees that they haven’t even scratched Isobel. 

It’s becoming a draw.      

“Is that the best you two can do?” taunts Isobel.  “Well, let me show you the best _I_ can do.”  Then it seems as if Isobel has exploded in a brilliant display of light and fire.    

Even as he activates his x-ray vision, he can barely make out Isobel through the explosion of purple and all sorts of colors that he somehow can’t put a name to.  He knows his colors, but with so much happening at once, it’s hard to tell what’s happening.  Whatever is happening reminds Clark of some sort of tornado, or maybe a seismic tremor? 

The gravestones, the ruined coffins, the crypts, and even the little flagpoles like one by Whitney Fordman’s grave explode.  It’s like some sort of controlled demolition as everything around him becomes little bits of rubble flying everywhere.  For a moment, he is being struck by little bits of wood, and whatever types of stone the gravestone were made of. 

When all this is over, there will be no way of telling who was buried here or where they were buried. 

“Queen, I can’t hold this off for long!” shouts Zatanna, clearly straining.  Clark can no longer feel anything hitting him, but if things worsen and Zatanna can’t hold it back, she will be seriously injured.

“Oh, Isobel, you are a bad woman,” Clark scolds.  He raises his bow, selects an arrow and cocks it.  He aims at Isobel’s heart, but hesitates.  He doesn’t know if by killing her, he will also kill Lana or not.  Lana doesn’t deserve to die.  Also he doesn’t want to be a killer if he can avoid it. 

He aims for Isobel’s leg.  Worried that his most powerful arrow might actually rip off her leg, he doesn’t pull the drawstring very far.  Still, even pulling it slightly, his arrows have incredible velocity.  He releases the arrow.  Hardly a second later, there is a dull _thud_ followed by a horrible scream.  If Lana experienced the same pain, all Clark can do is remember to offer a huge apology. 

The…mini-hurricane, which seems to be the only way Clark can describe it, comes to an immediate stop as Isobel falls to her knees.  As debris falls all around them, Clark glances at his new acquaintance and sees her relaxing somewhat. 

“Thanks for that,” she pants. 

“Don’t thank me yet,” Clark replies, not unkindly.  They need to put a stop to all of this before they can take a moment to really be thankful for anything.  He approaches Isobel and Zatanna follows him.

When they reach the injured witch, Clark cocks another arrow. 

“Consider that arrow a warning, Isobel,” he warns coldly, eyeing the arrow protruding from both sides of her leg.  If he had put even just a little more strength into that arrow, it would have gone clean through. 

Isobel glances up at him, her breath ragged against the pain.  “Do you really think that an arrow is going to be enough to stop me?” she hisses.  “I can see right through you, Clark Queen—if that is even your true name.  You won’t kill me; you don’t have the stomach for it.”

Clark aims the arrow as her head. 

Isobel’s smile widens.  “How do you know this curse will stop with my death?”

“She’s bluffing,” Zatanna says immediately.

A strangled laugh erupts from Isobel.  It cuts out almost as quickly as it comes, mostly likely from the pain in her leg.  “Oh, dear sorceress, you have never performs necromancy have you?”

“Have you?” challenges Zatanna.

“Perhaps,” Isobel answers boldly. 

Clark has had enough of this.  He removes the arrow and lowers the bow.  His drawing hand now free, he reaches down and grasps the arrow in Isobel’s leg.  He jiggles it around gently.  It’s enough to make Isobel cry out in pain.  “We don’t have to kill you, but we can sure make things _very_ uncomfortable for you.”  He jiggles the arrow again.  “So why don’t you cooperate.”  He tries a different approach.  “I can offer you the stones of power.”

Isobel’s eyes snap to attention.  “I’m listening.”

 _So bribery_ does _work_ , Clark thinks.  “Put a stop to this spell and I will take you to where the stones of power have gone.”  He wonders what she will think when she sees that the stones of power turned into a giant ice castle.

Isobel breathes hard. 

“Lana, what the hell is going on?” 

Everyone turns and Clark’s eyes land on Pete.  He stands not far away, at least put on some pants.  He slowly looks all around them.  “Clark, what the hell did you do to my girlfriend?” he demands, looking at Isobel’s leg.  “And what happened here?”

Clark sighs heavily.  This is going to take some explaining. 

***

Chloe wastes no time as she rushes forward and grabs Oliver’s wrist.  She then pulls at him, trying to get him away from the door.  He barely budges.  He is in too much shock.  Tess comes over and plants herself between him and the door.

Cupping his face in both hands, Tess forces her boyfriend to look at her.  “Oliver, I can’t imagine how much this hurts, but we need to get away from the doors.  We need to help the people in here.” 

It seems to take forever for Oliver to come to his senses, but eventually he nods.  “Yeah, yeah, come on, let’s go.”  Just in time as Chloe turns around and sees a few of her stronger classmates hauling teachers’ desks towards the doors.  Realizing their intent, Chloe rushes forward to help them.  Oliver and Tess follow suit and soon, the doors leading into Smallville High are barricaded by five desks, including the one from the principal’s office. 

Satisfied with their handiwork for the time being, Chloe, Oliver, and Tess follow her classmates.  They lead them to the gym.  As the doors open, Chloe sees the place is packed.  Everywhere from the bleachers to the floor people huddle together in their own little groups.  It’s not unlike the cliques that Chloe has seen on any other day at school. 

However, unlike a normal day at school, there are no teachers present, and at least one person in each group has a weapon.  Most of the ones who do have weapons are either farmers, or Chloe recognizes a deputy’s daughter, as well as a few who have hunting rifles that are likely more powerful than an average rifle.  Some even have a couple of bows of their own, which should make Clark and Oliver happy.  Beyond that, people just have all sorts of miscellaneous objects that can be considered weapons with varying degrees of effectiveness.

Chloe looks beyond the people and sees what else has been done with the place. 

Someone must have taken control of the cafeteria as Chloe sees people offering food to other people.  A table piled high with bottles of water is set up close to one of the bleachers with even more packages of bottled water around them. 

“God, did someone raid the supermarket?” asks Chloe, to no one in particular. 

“That and the food storage in the cafeteria, Sullivan,” replies one of the guys who helped with the desks.  Chloe recognizes him from the wrestling team.    

“Have doors been barradicated yet?” demands a voice Chloe knows all too well. 

The wrestler rolls his eyes as he and Chloe turn and see Dawn Stiles with her hands on her hips.  In spite of everything, Chloe can’t fight back her amused smile at the state of Dawn.  She’s usually so pampered like a brand-new Barbie doll and now her pink coat is ripped in a few places and her hair is rumbled, as if it’s been pulled at.  That part makes Chloe lose some of her amusement. 

“Yes, Dawn, we ‘barradicated’ the doors,” she replies. 

Dawn turns towards her and smirks.  “Sullivan, still a dyke?”

Chloe inhales sharply.  Truth be told, she and Trixie have been having trouble lately.  Their last encounter, they got into a big fight.  They haven’t spoken to each other since.  She smiles contemptuously.  “About as much as you are a ditsy blonde.”

Dawn blinks several times, clearly unsure on how to answer that. 

Chloe turns away and looks for Tess and Oliver.  She sees them huddled together on one of the bleachers.  She weaves her way through the mess of people and joins them. When she gets closer, she sees just how wracked with emotion Oliver is. 

His face looks ashen, his cheeks are smeared with his tears, but he isn’t sobbing.  He’s probably in too much shock.  Tess ineffectually cups his hands in hers, murmuring words of comfort. 

“How was he, Chloe?” asks Oliver, not looking at her.  “What was Clark like after our parents died?”

Chloe sighs heavily.  “At first he tried very hard to bury all his emotions.  He put on a red kryptonite ring and ran away to Metropolis.  There he spent almost all of his time partying and even did some pretty violent vigilante work on the side.  He stopped a few bank robberies, but he just kept the stolen money for himself.  That was after he put those robbers in the ICU. 

“When I managed to get him to come home, he didn’t speak more than two words for a month.  Every Sunday, he would have a candlelit dinner by himself with a picture of you and your parents across from him.  I only witnessed one of them because I didn’t know what he was doing at first when he snuck off, but he would talk to those photos.  He would have conversations with them.  That one time I saw him doing it, he burst into tears and just started shouting at them.  That’s when I came out of my hiding spot and forced him into a hug.

“What made things worse for him was when the FBI came and started questioning him about the circumstances of the plane crash.”

“What did they find out?” asks Oliver. 

Chloe bites her lip.  “That’s one secret that Clark refuses to share with anyone, but based on what I could tell, I think that they found out enough.  What I _don’t_ know is how Clark got them to leave him alone and close the case.”

Oliver smiles at her softly.  “And that whole time, you were just there for him.”

“As much as I could be,” Chloe confirms. 

A small chuckle escapes Oliver’s lips.  “You really are a special woman, aren’t you?  Clark is lucky to have you in his life, whatever form that might end up taking.”

Chloe blushes at the compliment. 

“But you’re not as special as Tess,” Oliver adds quickly. 

Chloe’s blush morphs into a scowl, but it’s Tess who smacks him in the back of the head. 

“Sometimes I wonder why I date you,” Tess grumbles. 

“Are you sure it’s not because of my smile?” teases Oliver, flashing that big—and incredibly gorgeous—smile of his. 

Tess averts her eyes, but not before her cheeks redden. 

Suddenly, everyone in the room jumps as loud gunfire erupts.  It doesn’t come from the room, but wherever it came from, it must be close. 

“I guess that person hasn’t realized they need to use fire,” suggests Tess. 

Chloe agrees.  The sound sends a lot of people in the room, including Dawn into a panic.  The ones with guns take a stance at the doors closest to the hallway leading to the front doors of the school.  Oliver jumps to his feet and rushes down to join them.  Chloe and Tess follow suit. 

“It sounds like it came from inside the school,” says one person.

“Doesn’t that idiot know that fire is the only thing that seems to put these zombies down?” asks another. 

“Everyone just calm down!” shouts Oliver in a commanding voice that makes everyone shut up.  “Unless someone has a flamethrower, none of us have anything effective.”  A big lie, Chloe is sure he knows, but then again, there’s no point in telling all these people that three of them just happen to have weapons that are capable of putting down the zombies.  “Now, let’s just stand our ground.  Either way, we’re not letting anyone into this room.”

Almost as soon as he’s finished speaking though, the gunfire stops and everyone raises their weapons.  From the other side, Chloe hears someone is indeed approaching.  First, she sees a shadow and then…a white handkerchief?

A number of people fire their weapons and Chloe has to cover her ears from the loudness. 

“Everyone hold your fire!” screams Oliver.  It takes a moment, but everyone listens. 

The metal door is now covered in bullet holes, but the glass slits are gone, shattered. 

“What the hell is wrong with this town?” demands the voice from the other side.  Chloe knows that voice.  Indeed, the person that appears as the ruined door swings open is none other than her cousin Lois with an M4 rifle in her hands.  It’s not long before they spot each other. 

“Chloe, I think your Wall of Weird just went ‘horror flick’,” she moans.  “Now does somebody want to explain to me what the hell is going on?  And why do half of these zombies seem to be fading into dust?”

 _Lois sure picked a_ great _time to come back to Smallville_ , Chloe says to herself.  And what does she mean that the zombies are fading into dust?


	61. Chapter Sixty

_May 1 st, 2003_

_I’m starting to fit things together.  I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before, but it’s all starting to make sense now.  Before, I was looking into Lionel’s projects under the name 33.1.  The people I had investigating it found out quite a bit of rather shady things about the whole thing.  From meteor rock-enhanced crops, to truth serums, to breakthroughs in cloning processes, it’s pretty much Lionel’s mad science lab.  They just don’t seem to have any Doc Browns.  I wouldn’t know what to think if some scientist working for Lionel discovered time travel._

_Sometimes I think that given all he can do, Clark’s A.I. of a biological father is far too powerful.  For some reason, I highly doubt that the real Jor-El was as powerful as the A.I. that keeps proving to be a nuisance in Clark’s life._

_Back on track, there’s also this whole Davis Bloome business.  A seemingly average fellow, who pays his taxes, runs around in an ambulance as an EMT, but also with a few gaps in his story.  His back story, his childhood, all seems too fabricated, too…clean.  It raises too many eyebrows for me to do too much of my own investigations—I’m a businessman, not a detective—but there are some things that I feel obliged to do on my own.  For example, I went to the hospital where Davis was supposedly born.  I spoke to some of the doctors in the labor and delivery ward who might have been there when he was born, but none of them remembered the event._

_That’s when I did some more digging.  I looked into the handwriting on the birth certificate that one of my investigators managed to get his hands on.  I’ve no idea how he managed to get this copy.  He won’t even tell me how.  It’s probably better that way.  I compared the handwriting to Lionel’s.  It was a perfect match._

_That’s when a very weird idea came to me.  I decided to go and talk to Clark’s biological father.  I felt so stupid, going to the lead-lined vault underneath the Kents’ storm cellar and talking to that space ship.  To be honest, in some ways, it felt like talking to a headstone in a cemetery.  Should that be considered a bad comparison?  After all, once I miraculously got Jor-El talking, the thought that was on the forefront of my mind was that I was talking to a dead person.  I was talking to a headstone that responded._

_I don’t think Jor-El likes me.  The feeling might as well be mutual, but despite our differences, bottom line is we both love Clark.  Jor-El also seemed capable of keeping a secret.  It turns out what I was about to ask was something that Clark is in every way unprepared for.  I asked Jor-El if it was possible if Clark wasn’t the only—I didn’t want to say “thing”—person that came down with the meteor shower._

_Strangely enough, Jor-El said he didn’t know.  As far as he knew, there shouldn’t have been anyone else.  So, to elaborate, I started telling him everything I knew about Davis Bloome.  I don’t know how else to describe what happened next, other than to say that Jor-El seemed alarmed.  I asked what it all meant.  Jor-El said something in Kryptonian and kept flashing a symbol all over the walls.  I drew a picture of the symbol as best I could on a slip of paper.  Before I left, Jor-El told me explicitly to not tell Clark about all this.  He does not have the training._

_I asked Jor-El what exactly Clark was up against.  He replied with one word:  “Doomsday.”  And then the space ship deactivated again._

_As I look back on it, is Lionel aware of all this?  Obviously this “Doomsday” poses a threat to Clark.  If Lionel is aware of the fact, just how long will it be before the beast is unleashed on my son?_

_I think it’s time to cut all ties with Lionel Luthor._

 

“Lois, when did you get back into town?” demands Chloe, perhaps a little harshly.  After all, her cousin hasn’t spoken to her much since her a few weeks ago. 

“About an hour ago,” replies Lois, slinging the assault rifle over her shoulder. Now that Chloe has taken a good look at her, her cousin looks worse than she does.  Chloe is sure that she doesn’t look very good either from her ripped clothes and spots of her own dried blood left over from wounds that have healed over, but Lois?  Lois looks like some of her hair has been torn out.  Her hair which normally goes about halfway down her back is a mess of something that just barely reaches her shoulders, as if she hacked the rest of it off with a knife. 

Why would she hack off her beautiful hair?  Lois and Chloe agree that Chloe is the one who pulls off bob hairstyles better between the two of them.  That being said, Chloe is sure that her cousin’s missing amounts of hair has nothing to do with seeking a new look.  Otherwise, she would have done a better job with it. 

Moving on, her clothes look worse than Chloe’s.  From all the scratches and bite marks all over her, Chloe is thinking that maybe Lois quite literally barely escaped these zombies. 

“Am I going to turn into a zombie?” asks Lois. 

Setting all angry pretenses aside from her absence, Chloe takes pity on her cousin as she approaches her.  “These aren’t those kinds of zombies; you’re going to be fine.”  Lois looks dubious. “Maybe with a few bandages and a few months’ worth of growing your hair back out.”

Lois touches her hair as a self-conscious look crosses her features.  “I don’t know, I think I kind of like it.  At least now I have less hair for somebody—or in my case a _zombie_ —to try and rip out.  Be thankful that you don’t have as much hair as I do cuz.”

Chloe scoffs.  Maybe she should tell her about that time Lana Lang tried to ax-murder her right here in this school.

“One thing isn’t adding up.”

Chloe turns and sees Oliver with his arms crossed, looking very suspicious.  “You just happened to come into town with a military-grad assault rifle?  I’ve lived in this town long enough to know that you didn’t get that from the sheriff’s station.” 

Chloe hates to admit it, but she has to agree.  It doesn’t really add up, especially if she got here an hour ago. 

Lois sighs. “I’ve been dealing with a lot of anger issues lately,” she explains.  “So one day while I was at the military base, I might have borrowed one of the guns from the ammo locker without permission.”

Chloe narrows her eyes as she exchanges looks with Oliver.  His worried look mirrors hers.  “And did what?”  She remembers it never being a good thing once Lois’ anger issues and guns were thrown in the same pot.

“I stole a bunch of beer from the frat boys on campus, drove out to a field, and started shooting them up until I got bored.”

“Between that wasteful excursion and the bullets that you might have spent shooting up zombies, do you even have any ammo left?” asks Chloe. 

Lois shakes her head.  “No, but give me some duct tape I can tape my knife to the barrel and make a spear out of this.” 

“Very resourceful, Lois Lane, and hack and slash all you want, but in case you haven’t noticed, these zombies put themselves back together,” explains Tess. 

Lois turns to Oliver’s girlfriend.  It’s very subtle, but Chloe notices a brief upturn to her cousin’s lip.  It could also be her imagination.  “So, how do they…stay dead?”

In unison, most within earshot say “incineration”, “fire”, or “burn them.”

Chloe frowns.  “Wait, but you said they were starting to turn into dust.”

Lois sighs as she heads over to one of the bleachers.  “I did.  I don’t know what happened, but one minute it seems like a bunch of them are about to rip me to shreds…” she gestures to her scratches up body.  “Then they just dissolve into clouds of dust.  At first, I thought it was just them, but then as I fought my way in here, more of them were doing the same.”

Chloe exchanges looks with Oliver and Tess, who has grabbed a first aid kit.  Given the extent of Lois’ injuries, the emergency room might be a better idea, assuming Smallville Medical Center is still functional.  “That’s great, I think, but at the same time I’m not sure if it’s cause for celebration yet.  At least not until Clark shows up.”

“I agree, we should wait for him,” Oliver concurs.

“Where is Smallville anyway?” asks Lois as Tess starts attempting to patch her up.

“He’s doing his part,” replies Chloe tightly.  She can’t help herself.  “What I don’t seem to understand is why he seems to upset him so much whenever your name is brought up.  What happened between you two?”  She knows that she’s gone from reporter mode to interrogational mode, but at the moment that’s of little concern to her.  Plus, understanding what went down between them might better improve her chance of helping them get back together.

Lois’ expression becomes very distant as she stares off into space.  “It’s complicated.”

That phrase is really starting to get on Chloe’s nerves. 

“Then simplify it,” suggests Oliver.  “Talk us through it like we’re a bunch of simpletons.” 

 _When did he get so interesting in knowing what’s going on?_ Chloe wonders.  That’s right; he and Clark are brothers and Oliver makes no exception when it comes to protecting his brother.  Not even women who might break Clark’s heart. 

“Can we talk about this somewhere more private?” pleads Lois, gesturing to all the people around them. 

Chloe rolls her eyes.  She helps her cousin to her feet and together with Oliver and Tess, the four of them head to the locker rooms.  When they arrive, Chloe sees that it is not exactly unoccupied.  No one is using the showers, but some of the girls are just lounging.  “Everybody out!” she shouts. 

The girls all cease their chatter and turn to Chloe.  She can feel the mocking amusement resonating from all of them.  “Who here likes blood?” she asks sweetly, gesturing to her cousin. 

It was a gamble, but immediately all the girls scramble to get out of the locker room.  Once the place clears, Tess seats Lois on one of the benches. 

“Okay, now what’s going on with you and Clark?” asks Chloe. 

Lois almost looks…tearful?  What could she have done?  “You swear not to hate me?”

“Why would I hate you?” laughs Chloe, but Lois is starting to scare her. 

Lois takes a deep breath.  “Because my relationship with Clark was a lie!”

Chloe jumps at her cousin’s unexpected shouting.  “What do you mean it was a lie?” she asks carefully.

Tears break loose in Lois’ eyes.  “You have no reason to believe that I grew to have feelings for Clark, but the general forced me to investigate him and Oliver.”

“Investigate us?” repeats Oliver, scratching his head.  “What do we have to hide?”

“You mean _other_ than the fact that your brother is an alien?” asks Lois quizzically.  “Yeah, Oliver Queen, I know.  And that was something that Clark didn’t mean to reveal to me.  In fact, I pretty much broke things off with him _because_ he’s an alien.”

Chloe is having a lot of trouble containing her anger at the moment.  “You do realize how xenophobic that makes you sound?”

Lois rolls her eyes.  “It’s not like that!”

“Then explain!” everyone shouts at once.

“It upset me because it proved that my dad’s suspicions towards the Queens weren’t just based on the paranoia of an overprotective father!” Lois shouts back.

“And was Lex Luthor in cahoots with you?” demands Tess. 

Everyone turns to the redhead. 

“Baby, what are you talking about?” asks Oliver, tenderly but firmly. 

Tess’ green eyes meet Oliver’s in a way that reminds Chloe of when she would look at Clark knowing she did something wrong.  “It was a couple of days ago; Lex came by the house explaining that people would be coming after Clark while also revealing that he knew all about Clark.  I was going to tell you, Oliver, I swear, but then you wanted to do something fun, and all of this happened.  Please believe me.”

Oliver’s features are impassive; there’s no way to tell what’s going on.  No doubt several thoughts are racing through his mind.  Finally, he reaches up with both hands, and Chloe’s breath gets caught in her throat as they settle on Tess’ cheeks.  Then, Oliver pulls her into his arms.  Chloe relaxes. 

“It’s okay, Tess,” Oliver whispers. 

“So she gets a free pass?” asks Lois. 

“At the moment, I trust her more than I trust you,” explains Oliver without looking at her.  “Lex is her half-brother, so she had every opportunity to choose family over love.  You on the other hand…I guess curiosity killed the cat, right?”

Chloe shakes her head furiously.  “I vouched for you!” she shouts at her cousin. 

“I know you did, Chloe,” says Lois, turning to her. 

Chloe can’t even meet her cousin’s eyes as she squeezes her eyes shut.  Trying very hard to swallow her anger, she lifts a finger.  “Okay, right now, the more important thing is making sure Clark is safe.  I’m going to give him an hour and if he doesn’t show up, we’re going after him.”

“I agree, Chloe,” says Oliver.  “As for you, Lois, make no mistake, when all this is over, I don’t want to see you anywhere near my family, or this town for that matter.”

“That’s what Clark said,” Lois mutters.  “Yet, here I am.” 

“Whatever, but either way, you have one hell of a penance walk before I’m done being angry with you,” Chloe promises.  She checks her watch. 

One hour. 

***

Clark isn’t sure why he took a minute to grab a parka.  Does Isobel even deserve it?  Several minutes ago, they were back in the ruined cemetery with Pete and Zatanna, trying to figure out a way to explain everything to Pete.  Clark is sure that Zatanna is having better luck offering said explanation than he would have. 

Hoping to put a stop to this mess once and for all, Clark decided to take Isobel to the stones, or at least what became of the stones, while Zatanna volunteered to take care of the increasingly traumatized Pete.  Clark can’t really blame his childhood friend.  For a few weeks it seems, he had been with a woman who was not only a different woman from his girlfriend, but used him. 

Clark hopes that once this is all over, Pete and Lana will be able to reconnect.

“This better not be a trick, Clark Queen,” Isobel warns as the two of them head into the Kawatche Caves.

“Isobel, at this point, I have no reason to lie to you,” Clark promises carefully.  Wasting little time, Clark leads her to the hidden chamber.  Then, using the octagonal disk that he pulled from his pocket, Clark takes Isobel’s hand and inserts the disk into its keyhole.  The familiar sensation of being engulfed by bright light as well as the feeling of being sucked through a long tube entraps Clark.  Then, as quickly as it began, his vision is welcomed by the soft glow of the Fortress of Solitude.

“What is this place?” asks Isobel, clearly in awe. 

How does Clark answer that in laymen’s terms?  “This is a place of knowledge,” he replies, which basically is what it is.

“And it all shall be mine,” declares Isobel. 

Clark suppresses the urge to roll his eyes as he leads Isobel to console.  The device set with several crystals protruding from it shines as bright as a light bulb.  By now, Clark has grown used to it, but Isobel looks as if she just stepped into a candy store. 

“At last,” she breathes.  “I have waited too long for this moment.”  Without invitation, she reaches out and selects a crystal.  To Clark’s surprise, nothing happens immediately as Isobel grasps the glowing crystal.  “Show me everything there is to know,” she orders, followed by to incantation Clark can’t understand.  This does have an effect. 

Immediately, the fortress begins to rumble.  While Clark quickly grows alarmed, Isobel’s cackles echo throughout the fortress.  It’s then that he starts to notice whatever is happening.  An icy wind begins to pick up, creating a swirl that no doubt would bring Clark to his knees if he felt cold like a normal human being.  Then that swirl begins to snake around Isobel, engulfing her in something of a cocoon. 

By now, Isobel has begun to notice something is wrong.  Her laughter ceases, followed by a growing look of panic.  “No…” she says.  Obviously, whatever she expected to happen has not happened.  “No!” she says again, louder.  “NO!”  Within the flurry, Isobel begins to ice up.  Clark isn’t sure that he can watch.  Still as he looks away, Isobel…explodes in a shower of light and snow.  The crystal falls to the ground.

Clark stands there for a minute, observing the spot where Isobel stood not a minute ago.  “Well that was uneventful.”

“ _Kal-El_ ,” booms the voice of Jor-El.

“Jor-El,” Clark responds.

“ _You brought a fragment of a human into this fortress_?”

Clark bows his head, noting the disapproving note in Jor-El’s otherwise emotionless voice.  “It’s a long story, but I wasn’t sure what else to do.  What happened to her?”

“The fragment has been destroyed, my son,” replies Jor-El.

“And Lana Lang?” asks Clark.  She’s not necessarily a close friend, but he would never forgive himself if something happened to her because of him.

“She remains unharmed, my son,” replies Jor-El.  “Now go, complete your education and then return to me.”

Clark can’t believe he’s saying this.  “Thanks for the help.”  It could be his imagination, but he feels a small touch of warmth as he heads back to the exit.  If that’s Jor-El’s way of smiling, or showing approval, then that’s enough for him.  

He returns to the Kawatche caves and lets out a deep exhale.  Feeling satisfied, he exits the caves and shoots into the sky.  Landing a safe distance from his house, he walks back.  He does not see a single zombie in sight.  No matter, Smallville is still going to need a lot of reparation.  Also, grimly he wonders how many people were injured, or even killed by these zombies. 

“I hate magic,” Clark mutters dispassionately.  Right now, he could really use a big bowl of ice cream.  If he wasn’t so exhausted, he would cook up some taco salad.  He makes a mental note to cook that next time he and Oliver have people over for dinner.  

His house comes in sight and he sees a few vehicles that shouldn’t be there.  The cars are unmarked and Clark’s first guess would have to be the F.B.I.  Why would the federal government be on his doorstep…again?  What did he do this time?  As he nears his house, he spots the man who looks to be in charge. 

“Hey, excuse me, but is there a problem?” he asks conversationally. 

The man turns towards him and meets him halfway.  “Are you Clark Queen?”

“Yes,” Clark replies carefully. 

“Mr. Queen, I’m afraid you’re under arrest for the murders of Robert and Laura Queen,” the man announces.  “Take him away.”

Clark stands speechless as two more agents show up and one of them cuffs his hands.  This can’t be good.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lois has made a few mistakes, but her road towards redemption is just beginning. 
> 
> Let me know what you all think!
> 
> Plus, this or even the next chapter, will be the end of part one, as there are just a handful of journal entries left.


	62. Chapter Sixty-One

_May 14 th, 2003_

_I’m worried.  Actually, more accurately, I’m worried for my family.  I’ve severed ties with Lionel and it didn’t go well.  Not to say it was a nasty confrontation—there was no confrontation; Lionel Luthor is not one to lash out—but I know the man.  He may not have shown it, but he was livid.  Just yesterday, the split in our partnership was made public.  The press has been having a field day._

_I had to contact the sheriff to keep people from setting up camp on my property.  Even as I write this, I am counting the minutes before the phone or doorbell ring again.  It embarrasses him immensely, but I hired a security detail for Clark.  I trust them and I know that they will keep reporters from harassing him wherever he goes.  I’m sure even my asking his principal to make sure that reporters stay off school property embarrassed him._

_I also had an interesting visit from Lex Luthor.  The young businessman praised me for separating myself from LuthorCorp.  I didn’t say anything on the matter as he described how the business is corrupt under the influence of Lionel.  That’s between him and Lionel.  Over the years, I never grew used to their squabbles.  All I could ever do was promise myself not to be a father like Lionel Luthor._

_Anyway, Lex told me something very troubling.  He told me that Lionel might be after me.  How, he didn’t know, but we agreed that Lionel didn’t take our business parting well._

_Either way, I think it’s time that my family disappears for a while.  I don’t know what will happen, but I’m not going to let Lionel do anything to us.  He can go to heroic lengths to run my company into the ground for all I care, but I’ll die before I let him do anything to my family._

 

“Come on, Clark; pick up your damn phone!” Oliver shouts into his cellphone.  He shuts off the phone and shoves it into his pocket with a huff.  It’s the fifth time that any one of them has tried to call him. 

“Why isn’t he answering?” asks Chloe, thinking out loud.  Oliver might be the one pacing a hole into the ground in front of the school, but she’s doing everything she can to keep from biting her nails.

They gave Clark an hour to show up before they went after him.  That hour was up fifteen minutes ago. 

“It’s not going straight to voicemail, so maybe he dropped it somewhere,” suggests Tess. 

“Maybe…”

“Shut up, Lois!” Chloe and Oliver shout as one. 

Chloe isn’t sure which of her and Oliver is angrier.  Chloe is angry because she encouraged Lois give Clark a chance.  That can’t be anything compared to the kind of anger that Oliver is feeling.  Clark is Oliver’s brother; how can Chloe’s anger compete with that?  Also, Chloe is sure that their combined anger is turning them into ticking time bombs.

Maybe it’s a good thing the two of them are pointedly avoiding eye contact with her cousin. 

“That’s it, we’re heading to the house,” says Oliver.  “Let’s go.”

Not wasting any time, everyone follows him.  Amazingly, the SUV is still in one piece, give or take a few scratches.  Despite everything, an amused smile spreads across Chloe’s face.  Clark always takes such good care of the cars his family owns.  She can only imagine how he will react to the SUV having a few scratches.  Feeling that Oliver has done enough driving for one day, she beats him to the driver’s door. 

Oliver stops and gives her a questioning look, but Chloe’s face hardens.  There’s no time to argue.  Rolling his eyes, Oliver fishes his keys out of his pocket and tosses them to Chloe.  Chloe catches them reflexively and climbs into the car. 

Once everyone is in, she turns the key over.  She shifts into drive and quickly slams her foot on the gas.  The car surges forward.  She doesn’t know who’s a better driver, but she can bet that Oliver feels more comfortable straddling a motorcycle than sitting behind a steering wheel.  Even as she drives as fast as she can without losing control, she counts the minutes it takes to get to the Queen house.

Oliver calls Diana.  When she answers, Oliver asks where she has been.  Even Chloe has to admit, they could have really used her help.  It turns out she was busy guarding the elementary school.  Maybe it’s better that she was doing that instead.  The thought of dead children makes Chloe’s stomach turn.  

Thoughts about what might have become of Clark race through her mind at about the same speed that she’s driving.  She knows that he has the means to deflect magical attacks, but what if he didn’t survive?  What if he did survive and something else bad happened to him? 

The roads are mostly clear, save for some nasty looking accidents.  Thankfully, there aren’t too many that she has to slow down much.  While her thoughts are mostly dominated by protecting Clark, she also can’t help thinking about this town.

No doubt the townspeople who haven’t been ripped to shreds are collectively traumatized.  How is the town supposed to recover from this?  The journalist in her is leaping with joy.  This could be one story that no one would be able to dismiss as the ravings of a teenage girl playing reporter.  She could even take it to the Daily Planet.  She would have more than enough eyewitness accounts for it to be anything but nonsense. 

Her conscience speaks differently.  How can she bring herself to write anything about this?  Everyone undoubtedly already feels enough pain as it is.  Oliver and Clark are among them.  She wouldn’t be able to look anyone in this town in the eye. 

This is a story that never has to be told.  Well, it will probably be told, diminishing into a local horror story told around campfires, but it definitely doesn’t need to be _written_. 

Finally, they come upon the Queen residence. The house looms over the crops, looking undisturbed.  Chloe will wait before she makes that judgment call.  It’s only when she’s on the driveway that she starts to take her foot off the gas, easing to a stop. 

She would have stopped more violently, except this is Clark’s property.  She’s going to respect it.

Once the car is brought to a stop, everyone wastes no time getting out of the car.  Oliver beats everyone to the front door of the house with the key in hand.  The door is still locked.  Maybe Clark came home and simply locked the door again.  If that is the case, then why didn’t he hear their approach?  Why didn’t he come out of the house to meet them halfway?

Oliver opens the door and everyone quickly rushes inside.

“Clark!” everyone shouts. 

“Bluesy, are you home?” Oliver calls out frantically.  “If you are, please say something.”

“Clark!” Chloe shouts again. 

“Will everyone quiet down?” Chloe knows that voice.  There walking out of the living room is indeed Lana.  She looks a lot better than she did a few hours ago. 

“Lana,” Chloe addresses her in a calmer tone.  “Have you seen Clark around?”

In response, Lana gazes at everyone in turn.  As she does so, her features crease into a look of…pity?

“Lana, where’s Clark?” asks Oliver fearfully.

Lana walks up to him and grasps his arm affectionately.  “Oliver, I’m so sorry to tell you this, but Clark’s been arrested.  About twenty minutes ago, the F.B.I. came and picked him up on charges of murdering your parents.”  She shakes her head sadly.  “I didn’t want to believe it, and I thought that Clark was exonerated of those charges, but I guess they found new evidence.  I’m so sorry.”

Everyone is silent for several minutes. 

“I don’t think those were F.B.I. agents.”

Everyone turns towards Lois. 

“How would you know?” demands Oliver. 

Lois studies all the gazes pointed at her with a fearful look that Chloe hasn’t seen very often.  It looks strange on her.  “It wouldn’t be the first time that the military posed as federal agents,” she replies in measured tones. 

That’s it.  With a growl, Chloe lunges for her cousin.  She wants to choke her, punch her, anything she can do that is harmful.  Before she can reach her however, she feels strong arms wrap around her in a vice grip. 

“Let me go, Oliver!” she shrieks.  She’s never lost control like this, but she can’t help it.  No one harms Clark Queen.  As she spews all kinds of obscenities that she doesn’t remember ever uttering, she eventually hears Tess.

“Chloe!” Tess shouts again. 

“What!” Chloe shouts back, her eyes wild. 

The redhead inhales deeply.  “Chloe, hurting your cousin won’t solve anything.  Right now, we need to figure out what’s happened to Clark.”

Chloe breathes hard and her eyes begin to glitter with tears. 

“I’m going to let you go now, Chloe,” Oliver says calmly.  “And when I do, you’re not going to pounce on Lois, okay?”

Chloe nods numbly and Oliver releases her from his grip.  As she does, she gives her cousin one last look of as much contempt as she can muster. 

“So, we agree that Clark wasn’t taken by F.B.I. agents, so where do we even begin to look?” asks Chloe. 

Tess’ face darkens.  “I might have an idea.”

Everyone gazes at her and Chloe suspects that there’s a family squabble waiting to happen.  No matter, all she cares about is finding Clark.  Where could he be?  What does the military want with him?

And she sure as hell hopes that they find him before he has to return to the Fortress of Solitude.  Then he’s really in trouble. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter concludes Robert Queen's arc in this story. All chapters from here will feature no journal entries. And everyone is angry with Lois, but she will redeem herself. I have that chapter all typed up. I just need to fill in all the space between. 
> 
> Let me know what you all think! 
> 
> Next we will get a glimpse of Clark, plus a new character will be introduced.


	63. Chapter Sixty-Two

Clark is bored.  He doesn’t know how long he has been sitting in this interrogation room.  There is no clock and they took his watch and cellphone.  Why did they take his watch?  He’s been left to sit here in this featureless room, save for the metal table with a few flat, uncomfortable chairs around it. 

It may have been shorter or longer, but it certainly feels like he’s been here for hours.  Most unsettling is the fact that he cannot see or hear what’s beyond the walls.  He can’t even see what’s beyond the one-way window, assuming it’s even a window and not just a mirror.  The walls must be lead.  Is that a coincidence, or God forbid, are these people aware of his abilities?

Either way, he does not think these guys are federal agents.  Federal agents have a certain protocol; he remembers how they operated when he was brought in for questioning regarding his parents’ demise.  These “federal agents” admittedly behaved like the ones he remembers, but they did it almost too well.  Their actions were too…scripted.  Yes, that’s it.  It’s as though they were following a script.

So if these jerks aren’t F.B.I., then who could they be?

More than once, he has considered punching through the locked door, but then he would be exposing himself.  Should he take comfort in the fact that they didn’t handcuff him to the table?  Not that it would have mattered, but maybe it’s a show of trust.  Maybe they are aware that he can break through a set of handcuffs like wrapping paper. 

In his boredom, Clark starts pacing.  He has already emptied the pitcher of water that was on the table.  He drank it slowly, so that wouldn’t be in need of a toilet so soon.  Now that he has finished the pitcher of water, he does wonder how long it will be before he does need a bathroom.  Will these people be kind enough to let him out for a bathroom break? 

In his boredom, Clark thinks about the events leading up to being locked in this twelve-by-ten foot room.  Everything has been so crazy these last few weeks.  Lois confesses to having spied on him, albeit reluctantly, for about as long as they had known each other.  The revelation broke his heart and he’s not even sure if he wants to open up his heart ever again. 

It has given him a chance to really look back on their relationship.  Neither of them was comfortable with it to begin with.  They might as well have been in some sort of arranged relationship, something that neither of them truly chose.  Why was Chloe so insistent on pushing them together?  Did it make her feel better knowing that someone related to her was dating him?  Did she believe some nonsense about fate? 

Clark hates the whole concept of fate.  It’s a prison.  All it seems to suggest is that everything is laid out for him in an arranged sequence.  He always felt that Jor-El didn’t approve of his parents for one.  Clark has always wondered if Jor-El disapproved of his parents, as if the Queens were not who he had hoped would adopt him.  If that’s the case, then he has been disregarding fate, or destiny from day one. 

He doesn’t know about Lois, but a part of him, despite his heartbreak, feels liberated.  Now he just wonders what will happen next.

Moving on from that, Lana’s wicked ancestor literally raised hell all in some effort to acquire stones that she couldn’t even touch without hurting herself.  All she ended up doing was making a huge mess of Smallville.  He feels bad for thinking it, but all he can think is that for once he’s not the one who has caused so much damage.  Clark is very sensitive about causing damage.

Whatever happens in his life, he doesn’t know if he can consider himself a hero if he’s making a huge mess of things in the process.  How can he call himself a hero if he ends up leaving a few people injured, homeless, or even dead along the way?  In his book, while he may have learned a bit of duplicity growing up, the ends don’t justify the means.  His worst nightmares involve him saving a place like Metropolis from a villain of some sort, only to turn back and realize that he razed half of the city in the process.  Usually it was right when the lynch mobs came after him that he would wake up. 

Finally, when that whole debacle with Isobel Theroux was over, it seemed he barely had time to catch his breath when some federal agents tell him that he’s under arrest for the murders of his parents.  He gave up explaining all the reasons why it had to be a mistake about five minutes into their trip. 

Clark doesn’t even know where he is at.  What he does know is that while he was in the backseat of an unmarked SUV, he felt a stab of excruciating pain in his neck.  The next thing he knew, he was waking up just as he was being thrown into this room.

Did they sedate him?  How is that possible?  It had to be kryptonite.  But how did they know to use kryptonite?  Where did they even get the kryptonite?  His dad always said that they have probably missed some kryptonite while his people were hoarding it.  God forbid, someone broke into one of the caches and stole some.

Clark is the only one with access to those caches.  At least he should be.  He wants to give Oliver access, but he hasn’t found the time, nor does he know who to trust to make it happen.  Tess has long since earned his trust.  Still, his father was very explicit about making sure he didn’t offer anyone outside of family access. 

Could someone have somehow fabricated his access information?  Could they have gotten ahold of his DNA?  And how would they know the access codes?  The access codes are different for each cache.  Even Clark’s father didn’t know them.  As Clark paces back and forth, he thinks he’s beginning to understand why his father spent so much time in the last month or two of his life making sure that he knew all of this.

Clark knows all of the access codes like he knows his alphabet.  Not all of them are in English.  The ones that are numerical are random dates pertaining to special events in his life.  None of which are birthdays; those are too easy.  They are just random dates that hold a special meaning, much like how a box of memories has meaning for someone. 

So, if someone did manage to get into one of the caches, without triggering any alarms, they went through a huge amount of trouble to get to all of it. 

Suddenly, Clark hears a buzzer, following by the door swinging open.  He doesn’t know how long he has been in this room, but he’s grown so used to the silence that the buzzer scares him half to death. 

Instinctively, Clark takes a defensive stance.  Then his eyes fall upon the man who has entered the room.  Dressed in his typical Army fatigues, it’s…

“General Lane?” asks Clark, confused. 

The general looks Clark over for a minute, before a scoff escapes his lips.  “Relax, Mr. Queen.”

Clark doesn’t move.  “Where am I?  What am I doing here?  Why was I told that I was being arrested for murdering my parents?”

“Is _that_ what they told you?” asks a very surprised—and very familiar—voice.  Clark looks past the general and his eyes land on Lex.

Now Clark is _really_ confused.  “Lex?”

Lex’s expression remains unreadable; it always bothered Clark when he has that face.  “Clark, why don’t you take a seat and we can all talk calmly?”        

“Calmly?” repeats Clark, his voice rising.  “I was taken from my home after thwarting a real-life version of _Night of the Living Dead_.  I was told that I was being arrested for the murder of my parents!  I was cleared of all suspicions last year!  In fact, Lex, I do believe you were one of the people who vouched for me.  Then I am sedated, only to wake up in an interrogation room.  So no, Lex, I am not calm.”

Lex doesn’t respond to him as he turns towards the general.  “He was told he was being arrested for murdering his parents?” he asks incredulously, if not angrily.  For a minute, Clark thinks he sees his old friend.  “That’s not low; that’s despicable!”

The general turns towards Lex with an intensity in his eyes that reminds Clark of Lois.  She may not be the one to admit it, but she’s more her father’s daughter than she gives herself credit for.  “Are you telling me that you _don’t_ believe that Mr. Queen here played a part in his parents’ deaths?”

“Not for a second,” Lex replies firmly. 

“Hmm, thank you, Lex,” Clark thanks him with a smile.

“But I don’t believe that he’s safe around normal people either,” Lex adds, turning to face him.

Clark falters, losing some of his defensive composure.  “What?  Lex, you’ve known me for years, before we even became friends.”

“I have known you,” Lex agrees, sounding overwrought with...betrayal?  “And all that time, you didn’t think to share with me that you happen to _not even be human_?”

Clark’s face goes cold.  He loses his defensive posture and rises to his full height.  When he speaks, his voice is as cold as ice.  “If I had known that you knowing my secret would land me in a place like this—wherever this is—I would never have even considered it.  So now what?  You’re going to lock me up because of whatever I _might_ do?  Just because I happen to not be human—how did you find out anyway?—suddenly I’m more likely to make bad choices than the next person?  I have done nothing bad my whole life!”

Well, that’s not entirely true.  The summer after his parents died, he donned a red kryptonite ring and succumbed to hedonism.  He partied; he had a different girl on his arm almost every night—but never got around to sleeping with them somehow—pretty much all things except processing his grief.  But he never stole nor killed anyone.  Although, he might have been a bit rough with a few bank robbers.  As for the stolen money, since it was from a mob bank, he dumped all of it in various anonymous charities. 

Perhaps that was criminal activity, even if it was already dirty money to begin with.  He never thought about it, but it might please Oliver to know that when he loosened up, he took up an opportunity to play Robin Hood.

“No you have not,” agrees Lex.  “In fact, despite what those stupid Army boys posing as federal agents said—no offense General.”

“None taken,” the general assures him with a scowl.

“We would like to offer you a proposition,” Lex finishes. 

Clark blinks several times.  He rounds on the general.  “Are you proud of yourself, _sir_?”

The general locks eyes with him.  Clark doesn’t stagger from the man’s intense scowl.  “I don’t appreciate your tone, boy.”

Clark scoffs.  “I don’t appreciate you using your daughter to spy on me.  Is she the reason why I’m here?  Did she orchestrate this whole thing?”

A smile spreads across the general’s lips.  “She has no idea that you’re here.  She has nothing to do with it.  She isn’t even aware that I know all about you.”

Clark smiles brightly.  “You must be a great father, Mr. Lane.  I’m sure you even won Father of the Year once or twice.”

The general advances on Clark, but Lex places himself between them.  “Let’s not lose ourselves here,” he warns diplomatically.  “Let’s just share with Clark what we’re offering.”

“I think I know what that offer is,” Clark groans. 

“You do?” Lex and the general ask at the same time.

Clark rolls his eyes.  “Please, a military man and an opportunistic billionaire?  I’m not some life-size action figure to be weaponized!  And considering the false pretenses, you have no legal grounds to draft me, not that I would have any interest in being a soldier anyway.  I don’t care how you sugarcoat it, or whatever benefits or perks you throw at me.  I…am not…going…to be…anyone’s super-soldier!”

He pants hard as two sets of eyes stare at him.  The general looks…well, the way he always looks with that hard look that always seems to spell out disapproval.  Lex looks disappointed.  Not that kind of disappointed when he misses a business opportunity, but rather like Clark just made a horrible decision with disastrous consequences. 

“Well I can’t allow such a dangerous _creature_ to be uncontained,” declares the general.  He unhooks a walkie-talkie from his belt.  “Move in, boys.”

The door flies open again and two very strong-looking soldiers step into the room.  Clark feels it before he sees it.  One of them holds out a lump of kryptonite.  Clark doesn’t have anything to counteract it, so he goes down. 

“Take him to solitary,” orders the general.

“General Lane, what’s going on?” demands Lex.  “This wasn’t part of the plan.”

The general rounds on him.  “Mr. Luthor, you have your agenda, I have mine.  Clearly, this thing isn’t willing to cooperate, so I have no further business to discuss with you.  You’ll be escorted from the base.”

Clark catches whatever parts of the argument he can as he’s hauled away.  Apparently, Lex didn’t want for this to happen.  Either way, Clark’s impulse is to trust him. 

“Lex, don’t let them do this!” he screams.  “Lex!” his scream is cut short as the soldier holding the kryptonite delivers a harsh blow to his ribcage.  Clark’s eyes water with the pain.  Through his blurred vision, he sees a convoluted pathway of featureless hallways lined with steel doors and florescent lights with an annoying buzz.

As he’s dragged off, he sees someone else being hauled in the opposite direction.

“Who are you?” asks Clark.

The guy looks about his age, if not a little young.  Looking malnourished, the boy manages a smile.  “Bart Allen, dude.  Welcome to hell.”  The brief exchange earns them both vicious blows.  This time, the blow lands on Clark’s leg.  Due to the kryptonite exposure, he hears a crack in his leg.  Clark has never broken a bone before, so all he can do is howl in pain.

He barely registers everything that happens next as a door opens and he is thrown inside.  As the door closes, he tries to hobble towards the door, but lamps overhead flicker on just as he reaches the door.  The green lights must be kryptonite emitters.  Clark hurts all over and he just wants it to end.  It doesn’t end; it just keeps going on and on. 

Finally, just when he thinks he’s about to die, the emitters shut off, replaced by total darkness. 

Clark has never felt so vulnerable, so afraid.  On hands and knees, he gropes around.  Eventually, he finds a corner next to what feels like a toilet.  Curling up in that corner as tightly as he can, the only sounds to fill the pitch blackness are that of his quiet whimpers. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note, I take no pleasure in hurting Clark.


	64. Chapter Sixty-Three

“Damn it, where is he!” shouts Oliver, throwing an empty energy can across the room towards the overflowing trashcan.

Chloe knows just what Clark would say—that their mother would roll over in her grave at Oliver’s messiness.  Sadly, Mrs. Queen literally rolled over in her grave a couple of weeks ago, so there couldn’t be a more horrible time for Chloe to remind him of such. 

Chloe hears footsteps behind her.  Based on the perfume, she knows who it is. 

“When was the last time he’s had a good night’s sleep?” she asks

“Before or after Zombie Saturday?” asks Tess. 

Chloe regards the term grimly.  She came up with the term on a whim when she addressed it in the following Monday’s edition of the Torch.  It turns out, she inadvertently coined the term.  Considering the state of the bodies left in the wake of Isobel’s spell, it’s hard to tell just how high the death toll is.  So far, based solely on dental records, about thirty-seven people have been accounted for.  The rest are just labeled as missing.

Chloe can barely put into words the joy she felt when she found out her dad was okay.  In fact, he was held up on a business trip at the time, so he wasn’t even in Smallville.  For a whole ten minutes, she completely forgot about the fact that Clark was missing.

“So he hasn’t had much sleep at all?” asks Chloe, feeling the weight of the unspoken message as she watches Oliver pour over every possible piece of paper that might have an inkling to Clark’s whereabouts.

Tess sighs heavily.  “The longest that that I know he’s slept at any given time must have been three hours.”  She regards Oliver thoughtfully as he sits at the kitchen island.  “I’ve spent a long time picturing how he’d look unshaven, but now that I actually see it?  He looks dreadful.”

Chloe takes a minute of her own to really observe Oliver.  The bags under his eyes are more defined than ever, really bringing out the toll that his tenure as a castaway took on him.  She’s also quite certain that his face hasn’t felt the blades of a razor more than once or twice these past couple of weeks.  Also, there’s the huge number of empty energy drinks—both empty as well as unopened—all around him. He looks so pitiful.  

Considering the mess around him, she wouldn’t be surprised if a part of him is hoping that Clark will walk in at some point and complain about the mess.  Clark has always been the tidier one.  In more ways than one, this is more Clark’s house than it is Oliver’s.  Still, usually tries to clean up after himself.  

She’s always known how fiercely protective he was of Clark.  Hell, she remembers him slashing tires on some rich guy’s prized Ferraris, just because Clark was pushed into a well at the party.  Clark was fine, of course, but he couldn’t fly at the time.  Looking back, that can’t be anything compared to the idea of being kidnapped by people impersonating F.B.I. agents.

Their first idea was to look for Lex, see what he knew.  Before anyone could stop him, Oliver stormed the Luthor Mansion.  Lex was nowhere to be found.  At the same time, Tess called LuthorCorp and they said that Lex was “away on business.”

She did have Lex’s cellphone number and using their combined computer skills, Tess and Chloe tried to track his cellphone.  The cellphone was at the Luthor Mansion. 

That only made things worse for everyone.  

Finally, they all turned to Lois.  Chloe wonders if she would have been less furious with her cousin if she wasn’t also a dead end.  Lois tried to contact her father, but he was unreachable.  She tried his cell, as every base that she had a number for, but they all said the same thing.  He was unavailable until further notice.

Were General Lane and Lex Luthor in cahoots with each other?  Lex must have made the general an offer he couldn’t refuse.  Chloe knows that Lex has been looking into military contracts.  It’s an easy choice in both Chloe and Clark’s opinions, but weapons development can be a lucrative business venture.  But what military business venture could involve Clark?  Why would he have to be a part of the deal? 

It was not long before Tess revealed the full details of her encounter with Lex.  He said that “people would be coming for Clark and there was nothing he could do to stop it.”  Could those people actually have been military?  Do they all know Clark’s secret?

It dawned on everyone that people might try to weaponize Clark, or at least coerce him into working for the military.  Chloe knows that Clark would never join the military, but how much can he endure before he says “Uncle”?

Much to Chloe’s dismay, everyone, including her own father who volunteered his input on finding Clark, made her focus on her last few weeks of school.  She only begrudgingly listened. 

She also hasn’t spoken to Lois since Zombie Saturday.  If and when he comes back, Clark is at perfect liberty to date her if he wants to, but now more than ever, Chloe disapproves of her cousin dating Clark. 

Lois didn’t even want to pursue Clark in the first place.  It was Chloe who convinced her to do so, citing what a great guy he is.  When during that time did the general approach her?  What did he say to her that made her listen?  If he threatened her, what sort of threats did he use that would have gotten her to obey?

On that notion, Chloe does find herself feeling bad for her cousin to some degree, but it’s the anger that she finds herself unable to shake. 

As a form of distraction, Chloe immersed herself in her schoolwork, as well as the Torch.  At least Clark disappeared _after_ finals.  She would hate for him to have to make it all up.  To explain his absence, Tess managed to forge a signed medical document, saying that Clark suffered injuries during Zombie Saturday that has since left him in a coma.  It’s not such a bad explanation. 

It’s prom week and a good number of students and teachers are still a mess of casts, crutches, and bandages.  Some of the less fortunate ones are even missing body parts at varying degrees.  The number is very small, but still high enough for a sense of grief to still be hanging over the school.  As a reporter, Chloe is a natural observer.  She’s not sure if her talents of observation are enough to make her an artist, but she would like to think that it’s enough for her to get a general picture of her surroundings.  In the last couple of weeks, there has been virtually no bullying at school.

At one point, Chloe had a much more scathing article planned for the prom, in which she would have explicitly denounced the prom queen election as an outdated popularity contest.  She still denounced the election, but she also shed the prom in a gentler light.  While expressing her thoughts of the prom as a rite of passage before leaving high school, she also expressed that in this troubling time for Smallville, it should be less about finding a prom queen and giving into the stereotypes of prom, and more about celebrating the end of high school.

Weirdly enough, the article made her a nominee for prom queen, much to the dismay of some of her peers, especially Dawn Stiles.  How can that girl still be such a snob after everything that has happened?  Is it her way of distracting herself from the trauma that everyone shares, or is she just that shallow?

Having known her for four years, Chloe would bet that it’s the latter.

Anyway, Chloe doesn’t even want to attend the prom.  Trixie hasn’t even invited her.  Chloe wonders if it’s because she’s too nervous about asking her to a dance in an otherwise homophobic town. It’s been difficult for them, having a relationship when surrounded by people antagonizing them for it.  Chloe is used to it, but Trixie is from a place that was more open to same-sex relationships.  It’s been hard on her.  

Also, Chloe and Clark promised each other a long time ago to save each other a dance at their prom.  Clark’s absence, combined with Trixie’s discomfort—which has grown steadily worse all year—have made Chloe unsure about attending, even if Pete and Lana did invite her.

Chloe is impressed with how those two have patched things up after Pete’s confusion with Isobel.  He was under a spell for most of that time after all.  

“What are you doing in my house?” Oliver shouts suddenly, making Tess and Chloe jump.  Not knowing who he is speaking to, they both gesture to themselves. 

Oliver rolls his eyes.  “Not you two; her.”

Tess and Chloe turn around and their eyes land on Lois. 

Chloe’s expression immediately darkens. 

Lois stands in the foyer, drenched from the rain outside, looking forlorn.  She knew how everyone was going to react before she even walked in the door. 

“Unless you have good news, you might as well leave,” Tess informs her coldly. 

Lois gazes at her briefly, but then her eyes lock with Chloe’s.  Chloe inhales sharply.  It’s the first time they have seen each other these past couple of weeks.  When Lois does speak, it’s very soft.

“The general visited me at MetU.”

There’s a harsh sound of clattering behind Tess and Chloe and pretty soon, Oliver is zooming past them and stopping inches away from Lois. 

“What did he say?  Did he talk about my brother?  Does he know where he is?  Which base is your dad staying at?  Is he working with Lex?”

“Slow down, Neanderthal!” Lois cuts him off loudly, wrinkling her nose.  “Damn, when was the last time you showered?  Let alone brushed your teeth?”

Tess and Chloe share a brief look.  They are sure that Oliver has made it to the shower the last couple of weeks, but depending on whenever it was he showered last, he is getting pretty ripe. 

Oliver stops talking, but doesn’t relax. 

“We’re waiting," Tess urges after a couple of minutes.  

Lois takes a deep breath.  “First of all, he wanted to know how I was doing—and yes I did working Clark into the conversation,” she adds sharply as she sees everyone tense up for more demands.  “All he said on the matter was this—‘It’s probably best if you don’t concern yourself with that boy anymore, Lo.  He’s a criminal and is now where criminals like him belong.’”

“Well that tells us nothing!” screams Oliver, throwing up his hands. 

“Oliver, I wouldn’t completely say that,” Chloe offers carefully.

Oliver rounds on her.  “What?  Why?”

“Well, obviously this means that the general has something to do with Clark’s disappearance,” explains Chloe.  “Lois is there anything else you can tell us?”

“I know which base he’s going to; Daddy’s a pretty good liar, but he’s never been very good at lying about which base he’s at or going to,” she replies.  She reaches into her purse and after some rummaging, pulls out a slip of paper. 

Oliver grabs it and reads it.  “Tess, let’s look up this address.”

Chloe watches the two of them disappear.  Then she turns back to her cousin.  She frowns at her. 

“Hey, coz,” Lois says pitifully. 

Chloe shakes her head.  For all the anger that she saved for when she saw her cousin again…all she feels is concern, if not a little pity for the state she’s in.  “We need to talk, but first let’s get you dried off…before you catch pneumonia.”

They do have a lot to talk about. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess this and the next chapter could have all been one long chapter, but I feel that the next chapter--Lois and Chloe's long-overdue heart-to-heart concerning Clark and all the pain that Lois has been through in this story--can be a chapter by itself. 
> 
> Also, the fact that Robert Queen's part in this story is over will be a big contributor in the chapters being shorter from this point on.


	65. Chapter Sixty-Four

Oliver isn’t sure if he says it often enough, but Tess sure looks sexy in her reading glasses.  She doesn’t wear them too often.  When she does, he never grows tired of just staring at her.  God knows he has seen plenty of movies where a girl takes off her glasses and primps her hair, puts on a cocktail dress, and suddenly she’s gorgeous, but he does feel that it’s a trope that is way overused.  He’s known a few girls over the years that looked quite attractive in glasses. 

Tess looks great in her glasses.  Oliver wishes she would wear them more often, even if the glare of a computer screen makes it difficult to really appreciate her eyes.  In some ways, it gives her a complex.  A pair of glasses can be a barrier that adds a little more mystery to the person underneath.  Perhaps that was what those movies were going for, like when Tess made him sit through _The Princess Diaries._   That, or maybe he has a thing for girls in glasses.  That or he just has a thing for nerdy girls in general.  His college crush, Felicity Smoak, was no exception.  He does hope that Ray Palmer is treating her well.

Someone else who looks great in glasses is his brother, Clark.  Clark doesn’t need glasses, but Oliver remembers him trying on different frames while their mother was visiting an optometrist.  Clark doesn’t like wearing masks—he complains that they slide around too much—but he would need to hide his identity somehow.  A pair of glasses would be a lousy disguise, but something tells Oliver that he might be able to pull it off.

Oliver remembers loving how Clark would make himself outfits that patterned his own, with red hoodies, utility belts, and his bow slung over his shoulder, but he should figure out his own identity.  Oliver sees his brother carrying his bow and maybe his throwing knives, but he doesn’t quite see him wearing a hood with that red and blue tunic he loved to wear on Halloweens. 

Clark.

As though a bucket of ice water was just poured over his head, Oliver snaps back to reality.

“Does the address check out?” asks Chloe, coming into the kitchen. 

“Yes,” replies Tess, twisting the laptop sideways to give Chloe a better view.  “It’s an Army base fifty miles away.”

Oliver smiles appreciatively.  He reaches out to squeeze his girlfriend’s shoulder affectionately, but she smacks his hand away.

Without turning around, she says, “Until you’ve had a shower, you are not touching me, mister.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Oliver mutters, glaring at Chloe as she hides her giggles behind her hand.

“So, it looks like I’m going to be going to the Army after all.”

“Not so fast, Oliver,” Tess warns.  She sighs and leans back in her chair.  “This might not be the most restricted area in the Army, but you can’t just waltz in and out as you please.  Even if I were to forge you foolproof credentials, you’re too recognizable.  And you can’t just sneak in.  A sniper would put a bullet through your head before you could even get close.”

Oliver hates to admit it, but she’s right.  “We need to get to him somehow,” he says stubbornly.  He doesn’t care if he has to ask Diana to storm the place and wrap Sam Lane up in her lasso.  He would be compelled to tell the truth and he can bet that the pain it would cause would be worse than any resistance to interrogation training the man might have endured.  In that regard, if they can find him, Lex might be an easier person to get information out of. 

“If you guys are planning on forcing any information out of the general, you can all forget it.”

Everyone looks up and sees Lois standing in the dining room.  She’s wearing one of Oliver’s shirts.  He gives her a questioning look.

“Your mom’s old shirts are too tight around my chest,” she says with a shrug.  She turns to Chloe.  “You said you wanted to talk.”

“I did,” Chloe confirms coldly.

“So, is there somewhere we can talk in private?”

“Actually, if you don’t mind, Chloe, I’d like to sit in on this one,” Oliver cuts in.

His brother’s best friend glances up at him.  He doesn’t know her quite like Clark does, but he does see a streak of silent understanding in those green orbs of hers. 

“You know what, Lois,” Chloe begins while still looking at Oliver.  “How about we all sit at the dining room table?”

Oliver turns his gaze back to Lois and registers her look.  She does seem quite wary about him and Tess listening in on whatever she and Chloe have to discuss.

“Tess and I promise to be quiet,” he offers abruptly.

Everyone stares at him, but he is already getting up from the kitchen island and going over to the dining room table.  He sits himself at his usual spot at the left hand corner at the head of the table.  He always sat there growing up.  Why change that?  Eventually, everyone comes to join him.  Chloe sits beside him and Lois and Tess sit across from them respectively. 

For a span of what feels like an eternity, the four of them sit together in silence.  Oliver is normally one who doesn’t like uncomfortable silences, but for once he has no wry comment to break it.  No doubt, the thing on the forefront of everyone’s mind is Clark, or maybe what Lois has to say for herself. 

As for Oliver, this whole ordeal feels like one of his childhood nightmares coming true.  Even before he and his brother discovered the presence of kryptonite, Oliver long feared that people would come and take his brother away.  He distinctly remembers asking both his parents as far back as when Clark first came into their lives if people were going to come take him away.

Every time the family pediatrician made a house visit, or if someone in a business suit showed up, for the longest time, Oliver would tell his brother to go hide somewhere and not come out until he said it was save. Clark always listened.  The Queen mansion in Star City is a big house and there were many places to hide. 

There are plenty of dreams that Oliver enjoys remembering, and not all of them are dirty, but there are ones he wishes he would forget.  He doesn’t remember if he ever enjoyed the movie _E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial_ , but he does remember the horrible dreams that movie gave him.  He dreamed about people in scary spacesuits appearing every which way as he futilely tried to grasp his brother’s hand and run away.  He dreamed about people poking and prodding his brother as if he was a science project.  He dreamed about alien ships coming back for Clark. 

To be fair, given the new knowledge Oliver’s gained in the past several months, he feels bad that Clark is not only an alien, but also a member of a near-extinct species.  Oliver has nightmares about losing his brother, but he will probably never fully understand the depth of Clark’s loneliness.  He’s different and there is literally no one—that they know of, per Chloe’s optimism—he can fully relate to. 

It’s not meant to be a horror film, but for Oliver’s ten-year-old self, _E.T._ was the most terrifying movie he had ever seen.  And he watched _Alien_ that same year with his dad!  His mother didn’t appreciate that all that much.  His mother was always very sensitive about the movies her sons were exposed to at an early age.  Oliver tried to be sneaky when watching R-rated movies with his brother, but their secret was exposed when Clark quoted _The Breakfast Club_ at the dinner table once. 

“You said you wanted to talk, so talk.”

And just like that, Oliver’s reverie is broken as he snaps attention to Lois.  He can feel Chloe struggling to control her breathing as she sits beside him.  He hopes he doesn’t have to restrain her in case she lunges across the table towards her cousin.

“Start at the beginning,” says Chloe.  “Why did you agree to investigate Clark and Oliver in the first place?”

Lois glances down at the table.  Normally, she has a humorous quality to her that Oliver finds very enjoyable, but none of that easy attitude of hers is there.  She just looks…tired. 

“I didn’t do it willingly,” she says quietly.  “Clark and Oliver were becoming some of the best friends I’ve ever had.  They were like those two hunky brothers that I never had.”

Oliver blushes at the notion against his better judgment, but no one seems to pay attention. 

“Uncle Sam must have had something to dangle in front of you in order to get you to do something like that,” Chloe insists.  “Was it one too many misdemeanors?  Did he blackmail you?  Did he…?”

“He threatened me with you!” yells Lois. 

Everyone just stops at that. 

“What do you mean he threatened you with me?” asks Chloe softly.  Judging by the look in her eyes, Oliver would guess that she’s worried she already knows the answer.  He’s worried he might as well.

Lois sighs as tears well up in her eyes.  “He told me that if I didn’t do as he said, or if I continued to not do as he said, I would never have seen you again.  When I managed to get him to tell me more, all he was that you were dangerous.  At that point, all I could think about was keeping you safe.  Granted, I gave the general useless information, but if it means keeping you safe, I don’t care what happens to Clark.  I like the guy, really, but I’d rather see him lowered into a pot of molten meteor rocks than let anything bad happen to you!”  As she breathes hard, all Oliver can do is keep from losing his temper. 

He admires Lois for caring so much about her family, but why does it have to be at the expense of his family?  It’s not her fault, he reminds himself.  Really, she’s just a pawn in some big game played by her father.  Oliver isn’t sure that he’s ever hated someone so much before, not even Lionel Luthor, who he’s pretty sure orchestrated his parents’ deaths.

“Why, Chloe?” asks Lois, having calmed down considerably.  “Why would a three-star general like my dad call a girl like you dangerous?”  She narrows her eyes.  “Chloe, what haven’t you been telling me about _you_?”

Chloe sits back in her chair and rakes her fingers through her hair.  “I hoped you wouldn’t have had to find out like this.”  She rises from her chair and walks back into the kitchen.

“Find out what?” demands Lois, calling after her.  “Chloe, did you find out about something you weren’t supposed to find out about?  Is there some top secret information not meant for civilian eyes that you know too much about?”  Her flurry of questions continues all the way until Chloe comes back into the dining room with a butcher knife.

Oliver’s eyes widen.  He thinks he knows what she’s about to do.  “Chloe, don’t…”

“This is one secret that only grow worse at hiding, Oliver,” she explains calmly, then she lowers the blade her other hand. 

“Chloe, what the hell are you doing?” shrieks Lois.  She tries to get up, but Tess stops her. 

Oliver sees Chloe wince a little as blood blooms around her hand as well as the blade.  _She better mop that up_ , he thinks to himself as she lowers the blade and shows her injured hand to Lois. 

“Whoopee, Chloe you like to hurt yourself,” Lois congratulates sarcastically.  “ _So_ dangerous!”

Chloe’s expression remains unreadable as she continues to hold out her hand.  “Just watch, Lois.”

Indeed, it’s not long before Chloe’s skin starts to close up again.  Within the span of two minutes, Chloe’s hand appears free of injury, minus the blood staining her skin.

Oliver can’t see her face, but he can imagine the look on Lois’ face.

“Holy crap,” she says eventually.  “You...you…”

“I have an accelerated healing factor,” Chloe finishes for her.  “I’ve never actually been ill and I’m immune to most, if not all, poisons.”  She shakes her head.  “I’m a meteor freak, Lois.  I’ve probably been exposed to more meteor rocks than anyone in this town and as a result, I have a large amount of kryptonite, as we all call it, surrounding my heart.”

“And the general knows it,” Lois sums up. 

Chloe nods.  “About five years ago, your dad came by my house.  He said I could be of use for the military.”  She shrugs.  “At the time, I didn’t think much of it.  I just thought that maybe the Army had a childhood program that he was offering me.  Anyway, he and my dad got into a huge fight about it.  Eventually, I learned more about my condition and it turned out my healing factor would make me the perfect soldier.  Or at least, based on what I could gather, there were people working for the military that wanted to figure out how to make a vaccine out of me that would give other soldiers similar abilities to mine.

“Dad wasn’t going to let anything like that happen to me.  He and Robert Queen were really close and, with Mr. Queen’s help, Dad was able to get a bulletproof restraining order keeping your dad from getting anywhere near me.  I guess, since Robert Queen’s death, that restraining order has become a bit more delicate, even with my dad’s high salary working for Queen Industries.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that he would use you the way he has.”

Chloe doesn’t shed a tear as she tells her story.  Still, Oliver wants to give her a hug. Lois beats him to it.  The cousins embrace each other and Oliver does have to appreciate the tender moment between them.  He’s not even sure he can stay angry with Lois at this revelation.  She was protecting someone she loved after all.

“I’m sorry my dad sucks, Chlo,” Lois apologizes. 

Chloe laughs softly.  “It’s okay, Lois.  I didn’t ask to be the way that I am.  But we do still need to discuss Clark.”

Lois breaks away from Chloe and the two of them lock eyes for a minute or two. 

“I want you to know Chloe—no all of you,” she corrects herself, registering everyone’s looks, “even after I found out Clark’s secret, I told the general that there was nothing even remotely suspicious of the Queens.”

“You’re a bad liar, Lois,” Chloe informs her dryly.  “Uncle Sam should know that better than anyone.” 

Oliver really doesn’t want to intrude, but something begs to question.  “So, why didn’t you try to warn anyone before it was too late?”

“Because when I told Clark about what I had been doing— _unwillingly_ thank you very much—he made it very clear that he didn’t want me anywhere near him, nor his family, nor his life,” replies Lois dryly.  “This is the first time since then that I’ve even been back to Smallville.”

Chloe groans.  “Lois, you’re a clever woman; why didn’t you somehow try to warn _me_?  Clark would’ve listened to me.”

Lois opens her mouth, but no sound comes out.  “But didn’t Lex tell Tess that someone might be coming after Clark?” she blurts out.

“We’ve already covered this,” Oliver says, a bit defensively.  “Everything happened so fast and Tess didn’t have a chance to warn anyone.”  He steals a look at Tess, who points a small smile in his direction.  He can tell she feels awful enough about it.  There’s only so much he can do, but ultimately what will make her feel better is Clark being safe and sound where he belongs—with them.

“You’re right about one thing, Chloe,” Lois says soberly.

Chloe gapes at her, blinking several times.  “What?”

“Clark _would_ have listened to you,” Lois clarifies bitterly.  “You two have known each other forever.  He trusts you.  Lately, I can’t help feeling like I’ve unwittingly become a cataclyst in Clark’s life.”

“Do you mean ‘catalyst’?” asks Tess, speaking up for the first time in the last several minutes.

“Yeah, whatever,” says Lois, rolling her eyes.  “My point is that last summer, Clark and I meet and it seems like everything has gone downhill from there.  I become acquainted with the Queens—my dad makes me investigate them behind their backs.  Something weird happens on Chloe’s birthday that leaves me wondering the hell happened—I ask Clark out on a date.  We go on that date—a weird, awkward relationship begins.  One night I find out Clark is way more than he seems and suddenly I realize that my dad has good reason to be suspicious of             at least one of the Queens.  Eventually, we reconnect and I’m unable to take it anymore.  I tell him everything and none of you saw the look he gave me.  He hated me.  And if he didn’t hate me then, he probably does now.  Even if I have no idea how my dad found out about Clark.”

“Probably through Lex, so the better question is how did Lex find out?” asks Tess darkly.

“And Clark doesn’t hate you; he loves you,” Chloe corrects Lois.

Lois cocks her head dubiously.  “He never uttered those words to me.  Now he probably never will.  And even, by some miracle he does, we can all agree that we would want to start a new relationship from scratch.”  She laughs bitterly.  “You know in another world, maybe Clark and I would have been perfect for each other, with none of this awkwardness between us.  In a world where you two never dated, yet still seem to care so much about each other.”

“You underestimate Clark’s capacity for forgiveness,” Chloe assures her. 

Lois shakes her head.  “No, you don’t understand.  Whatever the general has planned, a terrorist would be treated like the President of the United States compared to what might happen to Clark.  If I know my dad at all, Clark’s status as an alien mixed with all the paranoia that comes with that…he has no human rights as far as Dad’s concerned.  He’s less than an ant on the sidewalk.”

“So what you’re telling me is that my little brother is in the hands of a three-star xenophobic douchebag!” screams Oliver, slamming his fists down on the table.  For a split second, he expects to hear Clark, or even his mother scold him for doing so.  _That’s_ what Clark is supposed to be doing right now!

“And things are only going to worsen from here,” Chloe moans.

“Chloe, how can it possibly get worse?” asks Oliver, exasperated.

“Because Clark has to leave for training as per his biological father’s demands right after the day of graduation and if he doesn’t…” she trails off.  “I don’t know what will happen, but Jor-El tends to deal out severe consequences.”

Oliver blinks several times.  “Clark has to leave?” he repeats bitterly.  “He never told me.”

Chloe shakes her head as she lays a comforting hand over his.  “He didn’t know how to.  You both have only just gotten each other back.  If telling me was enough to break his heart, telling you…he might as well have been trying to figure out how to tell you that he had terminal cancer.”

Oliver sighs heavily.  “I guess I always knew that there were things that my parents would never be able to teach him.  But yeah, I wish it wasn’t so soon.”  Comprehension dawns on him.  “So, what you’re saying is that we have less than a month to save Clark before anything bad happens?”

“Afraid so,” confirms Chloe.

Oliver breathes hard.  “Then we’re going to need all the help we can get.”  Maybe he can even see if he can get a little help from the devil himself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very difficult time for me. One of my aunts is on her deathbed with metastasis which began from complications of breast cancer, which has plagued her in and off for at least five years that I’m aware of. This wouldn’t be the first time a member of my family has succumbed to this ailment. Worse yet, for some people, such as my father, her brother, deal with their pain by lashing out at everyone around them. It only rubs salt in the wound, but there’s convincing them that. 
> 
> I guess all I can do is be there for my cousins and pray that their mother is comfortable. 
> 
> Pardon my language, but cancer is a real fucking bitch.


	66. Chapter Sixty-Five

“AAAHHHH!” screams Clark. 

Yet again, the green lights have turned on.  The lights are more intense than they were a few hours ago.  He falls from his corner onto his back, huddling so tightly in on himself like a roly-poly as he rocks back and forth.  His whole body is alive with pain and there’s no cure for it.  There’s no room for developing any sense of tolerance to the pain.  Every part of his body just hurts and every time the lights come on, it feels like the first time. 

When being curled up in a ball becomes too painful, he just as quickly uncurls himself.  He’s flat on his back.  His palms are splayed along the cold lead floor.  Beneath his fingers, he feels all the deep marks he has left from clawing his hands into the lead.  He hasn’t seen the sun in…how long has it been?  His body is all but depleted and bruises from punching the wall are still sore long enough for him to count to one thousand with a breath between each number. 

The greenness of the lights is harsh in Clark’s eyes.  When is it going to end?  He has no timepiece, nothing to give him even an inkling of how long it goes on. 

He throws his head back and starts screaming again, shouting all kinds of obscenities as his body begins to writhe.  Does the spasmodic movement really distract him from the pain?  Eventually, pounding his fists against the ground only add to the pain. 

For the umpteenth time, he wishes he would just die.  “Make it stop,” he cries over and over again.  He takes comfort in the thought that if he dies now, he will see his parents again.  Maybe he will meet his biological parents in that same afterlife.  Is there an afterlife?  He knows about as much as anyone and he doesn’t care. 

He just wants the pain to stop. 

Finally, the lights go off and like a flick of a switch, the pain subsides.  Once again, Clark is engulfed in darkness.  Despite the darkness, he has come to know every inch of this room.  The toilet with a slot behind it that always replenishes his toilet paper, although sometimes it takes forever to do so; the metal slab to its immediate right with no mattress which is about a foot too short for Clark’s body; the slot at the bottom of the door where his tasteless meals come at inconsistent times. 

It didn’t take Clark long to notice the inconsistency in when his meals came.  That, and his sleep being interrupted at the most random of times, have made it nearly impossible to tell how long he has been here, or even what time of day it is.  He still has his powers, however weak they may be, so it’s safe to say that the school year isn’t out yet. 

What are his friends and family doing?  Are they missing him?  Are they looking for him?  Have they been “arrested” too?  Have they been killed for harboring an alien? 

“Don’t think like that, sweetie.”

Clark, who is still lying on the floor, cranes his neck and blinks.  “Mom,” he greets. 

The blonde woman smiles back at him.  Clark’s mother was always a beautiful woman, but was she always this beautiful?  Her hair is tied up professionally and she is wearing a silky evening robe over her cream-colored nightdress.

“I’m scared, Mom,” sobs Clark.  “I don’t know where I am or how long I’ve been here.  Why are they doing this to me?  Why is there so much bigotry in the world?

Laura Queen sighs and sinks down into a sitting position.  She reaches out and fluffs Clark’s hair affectionately.  “People fear what they do not understand, my little Superman,” she reminds him matter-of-factly.  “You weren’t born on this planet and that scares some people.  People do awful things when they are afraid.”

Clark blinks away tears that gather in his eyes as he reaches up and grasps his mother’s hand.  “But Mom, I haven’t done anything bad my whole life.”  His mother raises an eyebrow.  “Okay, yeah there was that time when I was nine and Oliver and I were playing and I ran too fast and I ended up knocking down that scaffolding for the office building Lionel Luthor wanted to build in Star City.”

His mother sighs as she shakes her head.  “You, your brother, even your friends and your misadventures,” she muses.

“How did you and Dad ever stay sane?” asks Clark with a smile in his voice. 

“I didn’t say that now, did I?” his mother challenges. 

“Sorry we were so much trouble,” Clark apologizes.

His mother thumps him with her free hand.  “Nonsense, sweetie, raising two troublemakers was my dearest pleasure.  Don’t ever forget that.”

“I won’t, Mom,” promises Clark.  His mother then wraps her arms around him.  He grasps her arms for dear life.  “Please don’t leave me, Mom.”

“I never left,” his mother whispers. 

Suddenly, Clark hears something very loud.  It’s coming from the door.  Is it unlocking?  “Mom, what’s going on?”  He looks up, but his mother is nowhere to be seen or heard in the darkness.  “Mom?” he repeats frantically.  “Mommy, come back!” 

The door slides open and Clark has to squeeze his eyes shut.  He hasn’t seen any light other than that of the kryptonite emitters in God knows how long.  These lights aren’t very bright, but it’s blinding. 

“Where did my mother go?” demands Clark, facing the looming figure in the doorway. 

“Sir, the subject appears to be suffering hallucinations,” says the unfamiliar voice.  “It appears it suffers humanlike effects to solitary confinement.”

As Clark’s vision clears, he sees not one, but two people.  One is a middle-aged woman in a lab coat and the other…

“General Lane?” asks Clark.  “What do you want?”

The Lane patriarch regards him thoughtfully.  “First of all, I thought you might be hungry for some real food.”  That’s when Clark notices the plate in his hand.  He watches as the general carefully sets it on the ground and slides it towards him.  Through squinted eyes, Clark inspects the plate suspiciously.  Slow-cooked beef and carrots, mashed potatoes and gravy, and corn on the cob stare back up at him, filling his nose with its intoxicating smell.  His stomach growls at the sight of it. 

It’s better than the thin soup and tasteless bread that he has been given all this time.  Using whatever strength he has, Clark forces himself not to give in.  “What is this?  Some sort of peace offering?”

General Lane studies Clark for a long moment.  She might not appreciate him saying so, but Clark can see so much of Lois in her father.  The both of them have much of the same intensity in their gazes and, coming from her father, it’s not quite as attractive.  At the moment, it actually puts a sour taste into his memory of Lois’ similar gazes.

“You’re pretty perceptive, Mr. Queen, I’ll give you that,” he says eventually.  “Although, I really did think that you might be hungry for some real food.” 

Clark watches him as he goes to sit on the metal slab of a bed.  “If you’re here to persuade me to be a weapon, you can forget it,” he informs the smoke-scented man with conviction, despite his emaciated state.  “You can romanticize it, sugarcoat it, glorify it, and even offer me my own private island— which I do own by the way, in the Caribbean—but I am not going to work for the military!”

“Sir, it clearly displays stubbornness, much like humans…”

“Shut up, Dr. Dollmacher,” snaps the general.

“And I’m a ‘he’, not an ‘it’, Dr. _Doll-maker_ ,” Clark adds indignantly.  The woman locks eyes with him.  Clark is hurt, but unsurprised by her fearful expression.  He’s betting that the only thing she knows about him is his otherworldly heritage.  She must not have expected someone looking so human.  He smiles wickedly.   “You know I’m just a little green alien dressed as a human, right?”

Dr. Dollmacher’s face loses all its color.  Clark can’t contain his giggles anymore.  Even the general looks a little horrified.  “You people are so stupid, so gullible.  You’ve seen me bleed, so you know my blood is red.  Even I don’t fully understand everything about me.”

The two people before him blink several times. 

Clark scoffs as he sits up with his back against the wall.  This room looks very different with lights on.  He might as well be in a different room than the pitch black box he’s spent so much time in.  “You two weren’t expecting _that_ , were you?  Listen, I’ve been raised as a human since I was three years old.  I didn’t even know I was an alien until I was thirteen, right after my brother…”

“He’s not your brother,” Dr. Dollmacher interrupts abruptly. 

Clark rounds on the woman, his hands balling into fists.  “Excuse me?”

“Oliver Queen is not your brother,” the woman repeats.  “He cannot call you ‘brother’ any more than he can call a dog his brother.”

All of Clark’s fear of how people would treat him comes raining down on him.  All those nights, waking up in a cold sweat from nightmares of being operated on, flash through his mind quicker than lightning.  If he thought he would be afraid when it actually happened, he was dead wrong.  He’s furious. 

“You’re placing me on the same level as a pet,” he sums up quietly.  “Well then, perhaps you should be more careful.  I might bite.”  He fakes a lunge and both his guests react quickly. 

Dr. Dollmacher jumps with a squeal; General Lane fishes something out of his pocket.  Clark isn’t surprised in the slightest as he keels over from the pain inflicted by the kryptonite.  “I’m beginning to wonder how you got those three stars,” Clark hisses through the pain.  “You don’t deserve any of those decorations, you gun-toting piece of shit.”

The general better remember that.  Clark rarely swears, so such an insult from him should feel like a gunshot.  The man bends down and regards Clark almost shamefully.  “I came here with a generous offer, Mr. Queen.  Honestly, I wouldn’t care if you were an alien as long as I knew that you weren’t a threat to society.  Working for the government, you would have had more flexibility than the CIA’s best deep undercover agent. 

“If you had simply listened to what I had to say, you might even have gotten out of this room, gotten a hot shower, and some new clothes.”

“All so that you can dress me up like a Malibu GI Joe,” Clark spits.  “Go to hell.”

The general scoffs as he rises to his feet and straightens his fatigues.  “Actually, I am going to step _out_ of hell.  Perhaps you’ll be more cooperative after Dr. Dollmacher is finished doing whatever it is she wants to do to you.”  He walks out of the room without another word, leaving Clark alone with the doctor. 

“And what is it you want to do to me?” inquires Clark.  He tries to sound brave, but his voice might have come out a little squeaky.

The kryptonite emitters reactivate and Clark inhales sharply.  He sees the doctor opening up a large briefcase that he hadn’t noticed before.  “I am going to see just how inhuman you are,” she replies sweetly.  “Tell me, alien, have you ever heard of vivisection?”

Clark’s face turns white as chalk.  “Do your worst, bitch.”

***

“Vivisection?” repeats Lex, horrified.  He stares at the screen, watching the woman as she straps Clark down on the slab of a bed.  This is madness!  This is not what he signed up for.  They were going to persuade Clark to serve a noble cause, one that would have spared the lives of a potentially large number of American lives, both military and civilian, not to mention a severe cut in the country’s military budget.

Lex would have appealed to Clark’s pacifist side.  The general went about it all wrong.  Then again, Clark didn’t give him a chance to go about it at all.

Lex may have been curious about Clark—who wouldn’t be?—but he had no intention of turning Clark into a science project.  If Clark was to become a science project, it would have been with his consent, and there definitely wouldn’t have been any vivisection involved.  Lex hasn’t taken much time to give it much thought, but after hearing what Clark said about not fully understanding what he is, he could have helped him with that. 

Lex could have helped Clark while learning about him at the same time.  He hears a crunch behind him.  He turns around and his horror morphs into disgust. 

The security guards stationed to this room are eating popcorn!  Lex walks over and smacks the bowl between the guards as hard as he can.  The bowl flies across the room and hits the door as popcorn flies everywhere. 

“Dude, what’s your problem?” one of them demands. 

Lex considers that question.  “What is my problem?”  He turns around and points at the screen.  “ _That’s_ my problem!” he shouts.  “That young man is about to be vivisected and all you guys can do is eat buttery popcorn like it’s a weekend at the theater!”

“He’s alien; who cares?” asks the other incredulously. 

Lex scoffs and exits the room.  As he travels down the lengthy corridor, he hears his name.

“Mr. Luthor.”

He stops in his tracks, but does not turn around. 

“General Lane,” he addresses coolly.  “You caught me just as I was about to leave.”

“Are you leaving so soon?” the general asks. 

“Something’s come up and I’m afraid it can’t wait.”

“You’re upset,” the general observes.  “Mr. Queen refuses to cooperate, but don’t worry.  We’ll get the monster to see our side.”

A dark smile crosses Lex’s face as he turns around slightly.  “Monster, you say?  Well in that case, I’d be more careful if I were you.  You poke a monster too hard and he might just end up becoming everything you already fear that he is.  Good day, General.”  He walks away without another word. 

Soon, he walks past one of his own security detail and the man falls into step with him.  “Prep my jet, we’re leaving.”

“Yes sir,” the man replies. 

While the man calls the pilot, Lex’s mind is racing.  He smartly took an opportunity to get a full tour of this installation.  After a bit of sweet talk and flirting, he even managed to find a few of the weak points in it. 

One way or another, Lex is getting Clark out of here.  But how is he going to do that when there is at least two thousand miles of ocean in every direction?

Lex is going to need help, but first he needs to figure out how to gain their trust. 

    

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was a particularly poignant weekend. My aunt's funeral was Friday and my older sister and I sat with our dad for the first time in many months. Being a closed-casket funeral, it was surreal to say the least, knowing that what was left of my aunt was in that blue box that was later lowered into a concrete vault. That's more money than I want to spend. At least she's buried in the same cemetery as my grandmother on that side who I never knew. My prayers are with my family, who are all on the mend in some way. Some of them share their grief in Facebook posts. I could say that I channel mine through writing.
> 
> I hope that not all of my writing is poignant. If things tend to be more depressing than anything else, feel free to call me on it. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter.


	67. Chapter Sixty-Six

Chloe and Oliver stand together in the elevator.  Technically, where they are going is off-limits due to renovation and construction, but Oliver Queen is Oliver Queen and as far Chloe has seen, he can sweet-talk his way passed any restrictions.  Even she finds herself blushing around him sometimes. 

He’s Clark’s brother.  Attraction or no, it would make things unbearably awkward.  She did have to talk Oliver into letting her accompany him here.  Together with her dad, Oliver and Tess have been making certain that she stays in school.  She listened, begrudgingly.

Tonight is the prom dance and Chloe is anything but excited about it.  She has a lovely violet and pink satin halter gown to wear to it, but she’s not sure she’s going.  Someone convinced everyone that despite the tragedies that Smallville has suffered, that they must still have a prom.  She did try asking Trixie what she had planned, and she sounded very noncommittal. 

Chloe tried surprising her with a lovely peach-colored strapless gown with an A-line skirt, but weirdly that went south.  Trixie saw it as a ruse to get her to go to prom.  Chloe didn’t mean it as a ruse.  She had a bit of extra money saved, and Trixie had been complaining about not having a dress, Chloe thought she was doing something sweet.  She even ran it by Lucifer first and he also thought it was a lovely dress, one that would really bring out her eyes. 

To make Chloe’s week even worse than it already was, Trixie broke up with her.  Wistfully, she wondered if it was what Clark felt when she broke up with him.  The circumstances were far less dramatic, but still Chloe felt like she had been whacked in the head with a sledgehammer.  Trixie couldn’t handle the verbal abuse anymore.

Chloe left the dress with her to do with as she pleased.  She bought it for her.  Her father tried to comfort her the best way he knew how with humor, but it wasn’t helping.  Oliver tried helping and did it a little better.  She’s still too angry with Lois too even consider her as a shoulder to cry on.  The one person that has always been the best at being a shoulder for her to cry on—actually they have always been good for each other in that regard, she feels—is unavailable. 

The word feels so trivial to the actual situation Clark is in.  No one, not even Lois apparently, knows exactly where Clark is or what is happening to him.  Chloe’s first thought was to go to Clark’s Fortress of Solitude.  She remembered exactly where she put that octagonal key.  She grabbed a heavy coat and went to the Kawatche Caves.  Much to her anger and frustration, when she put that key into the key slot, it didn’t work. 

Why didn’t it work?  Clark has used it a few times.  Is it because it was her who was trying to use it?  Is it for Kryptonians only?  Could it be that the door is closed until after graduation, whereupon Clark has to immediately report for duty, so to speak? 

Either way, this has been a week full of things to piss off Chloe and her friends, one after the other. 

Right now, she’s here with Oliver exploring one of their options. 

“Do you plan on taking Tess to the grand opening?” asks Chloe the elevator nears the penthouse.  From what she’s read, the Ace of Clubs nightclub is having its grand opening at the end of the summer.  Sadly, assuming they find Clark within that timeframe, he won’t be able to join them. 

Oliver actually blushes at her question.  “I haven’t actually asked her yet.”

Chloe cocks her head.  “What, why?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, there have been a lot of things on my mind lately,” replies Oliver.  “From trying to establish myself as a fledgling businessman at my company, to Smallville having its own version of a short-lived zombie apocalypse, to kid brother being kidnapped by some Army general, Tess and I haven’t really had time to actually act like a real couple.”  He grumbles quietly.  “How did your uncle get those three stars anyway?  Murdering babies?  Killing children armed with guns?  Bowing down to a power-hungry country is becoming increasingly more vigilante in monitoring people?  Pretty soon, either my brother is going to have to live as a hermit with no electronics or someone is going to have to figure out how to keep the government from finding a way to tap into his life. 

“Somebody could find out his secret just but listening in on his cellphone conversations!  I wouldn’t be surprised if your uncle had people tapping into Clark’s phone.”

Chloe hasn’t thought about that.  It’s definitely a possibility.  The thought of some hacker sitting at a computer, monitoring Clark’s phone terrifies her.  Wait, does that mean that her conversations have been monitored?  Is her house wired?  Are her usual haunts wired?  Is Clark’s house wired?  Chloe’s paranoia is growing by the second.

The elevator dings and Chloe, having been so caught up in her thoughts, jumps at the sound of it.  The doors open and Chloe’s eyes are welcomed by the sight of movement, indistinct shouting, and hard hats.  Oliver steps inside and he has to grab her wrist and drag her with him before the doors close. 

Almost as soon as they enter, someone hands them hard hats.  Chloe has to adjust the strap so that the thing doesn’t slip down her face. 

The last time she was here was on a date with Trixie.  It was same day that that children’s center caught fire.  Apparently, it was also the same day that Lois inadvertently found out Clark’s secret.  The place itself has changed a bit.  Tables and chairs being unboxed; large cases that Chloe is sure contain bottles of liquor; electrical wiring everywhere.  Chloe is wondering if Mr. Morningstar is going for some sort of luminescent vibe with the furniture.

The idea does put a likable picture in Chloe’s head.

“I’m sorry, but who let you two up here?” asks the familiar Welsh accent that Chloe would recognize anywhere.

Chloe and Oliver turn around and see Mr. Morningstar himself.  Even when surrounded by construction, the man still dresses up.  Today, he wears a dark lavender and black suit with a black handkerchief in the front pocket of his coat.  Chloe has wondered if Clark would look as good if he were to dress so flamboyant all the time. 

“Mr. Morningstar,” Oliver acknowledges with a friendly smile.  “How are you today?”

“Extremely busy,” Mr. Morningstar replies.  “If I’m going to be opening this club by the end of August, I can’t have any distractions.”

“Are you sure you can’t spare a few minutes?” asks Chloe, maybe a little desperately. 

Mr. Morningstar fixes his eyes on her.  A sympathetic smile spreads across his lips.  “How are you, Miss Sullivan?”

Chloe inhales sharply.  “I’ve been better.”

Mr. Morningstar sighs.  “Five minutes; let’s go somewhere a little quieter?”  He turns around and Chloe and Oliver follow after him.  He leads them to the balcony outside.  It’s a little quieter.  “Now, tell me, what’s this all about?”

Chloe and Oliver share a look.  Chloe isn’t sure why they are going to him for help.  Oliver insisted that the man could help.  She’s certain that he knows something she doesn’t, but he wouldn’t say. 

“Okay, straight to the point, you have a way of getting people to tell you what you want, right?” asks Oliver.

Mr. Morningstar gapes.  “Yes, why, is there somebody unwilling to tell you whatever it is you want to know?”

“Clark has been kidnapped by people posing as F.B.I. agents and we have an idea of who might be behind it,” explains Oliver. 

“And you’re hoping that I will be able to persuade him to share what he knows,” Mr. Morningstar sums up.  “What’s in it for me?”

Chloe can answer this.  “Uh, Trixie was always talking about how bored you are.  This might give you a chance to do what you used to do with your wife when she was alive.”

Mr. Morningstar fixes his gaze on her again.  Those eyes are so intense, it’s a little unnerving.  Chloe has seen the way that man reprimands students and he somehow manages to look frightening even when smiling.  Gazing too long into his eyes, Chloe wonders what will happen to her.  She’s left with a strange desire to either tell him her secrets, let him take her to bed and do with her as he pleases, or even sell her soul. 

“We’ll owe you a favor,” Oliver adds. 

Mr. Morningstar smiles brightly.  “Well then, keep me updated on your information and I’ll see what I can do.  Mr. Queen, may I have a moment with Miss Sullivan?”

Oliver shares a look with Chloe.  “Sure,” he says.  “I’ll wait for you, Chloe.”  Chloe watches him until he disappears inside.

“How’s Trixie?” she asks. 

“She’s locked herself in her room,” replies Mr. Morningstar.  “When she does come out, the only person she’ll speak to is her half-sister.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Morningstar,” apologizes Chloe as she turns her gaze towards him. 

Mr. Morningstar frowns.  “Sorry for what?”

“I thought if I cared about her enough, maybe she would be strong enough to withstand all the homophobia,” Chloe explains.  “I think I’ve only made things worse for her.” 

Mr. Morningstar sighs.  “First of all, I’ve told you many times to call me Lucifer outside of school, and second of all, you have nothing to apologize for.  Trixie is the one who broke up with you, isn’t she?”

Chloe nods.  “Still, I can’t help feeling like I had it coming.”

“Miss Sullivan, my stepdaughter spent much of her childhood in a place where it was the homophobes that were picked on,” Mr. Morningstar reminds her.  “Then she comes to a town with the word ‘small’ in its name and suddenly she’s in place where people use words like ‘fag’ and ‘dyke’ like it’s normal.  To tell the truth, I’m impressed that she’s made it this long without having some sort of mental breakdown.”

“Is she going to be okay?” asks Chloe worriedly. 

“She’ll be fine, eventually,” replies Mr. Morningstar.  “In case it’s what you are worried about, no she’s not suicidal.  I’d know.”

Chloe hopes so.  She laughs humorlessly.  “It’s funny.”

“What?”

“Trixie started showing interest in me _after_ she thought she couldn’t have my cousin, Lois.”  It’s hung over Chloe’s head throughout their relationship.  It has probably been the first time that she was left with the feeling of being someone’s second choice. 

“Yes, I remember that,” confirms Mr. Morningstar.  “She was quite distraught having felt like she couldn’t be with your cousin. 

“I wonder how she’d feel if I told her that Lois _did_ in fact like the attention,” Chloe wonders out loud before she can stop herself. 

“I beg your pardon?”

Chloe is sure he wasn’t expecting that.  “My cousin has struggled with her sexuality in the past.  When she was fourteen, she had this friend, Gemma, at one of the bases she lived at.  They were best friends.  On weekends, they would have sleepovers just about all the time.  Lois really cared about her.  One time, my uncle caught them in the same bed together and things didn’t end well.  He had Gemma transferred to another base, but not before he arranged to have her father decommissioned.  Lois, on the other hand, spent that summer training with green berets.”

Mr. Morningstar watches her intently as she goes through her tale.  Lois would probably throttle her for telling him that story.  “And I thought I had daddy issues.” 

“Amazing you two aren’t best friends yet,” Chloe jokes. 

“Well my father cast me out of my home many, many years ago,” Mr. Morningstar explains wistfully.  “I cannot believe I’m saying this, but your uncle could give my father a run for His money.”

A brief silence passes between them as they contemplate what Chloe just revealed.  She does wonder if Lois felt something similar when Chloe convinced her to go after Clark.  Clark initially didn’t show any interest in her and sometimes Chloe can’t help suspecting that Clark only started showing interest in her cousin after he noticed her journalistic streak. 

Perhaps Clark wasn’t all that ready for a new relationship to begin with.  It wasn't very long before Lois asked him out.  He might have still been in a bit of a mourning period.  Maybe somewhere deep down, he thinks his heart still belongs to Chloe.  If and when they rescue him, Chloe wonders if his unwavering ability to forgive will be extended to Lois.  Despite everything, Chloe hopes that he is willing to forgive her cousin.  Chloe does have her own anger towards her cousin to sort out, but more and more, she’s starting to feel sorry for Lois. 

If anybody really deserves her anger, it’s her Uncle Sam.  She hates him for using her cousin the way he did.  Lois’ reaction to Clark’s powers might still have been similar, but without the pain of knowing that her father had a legitimate reason to be suspicious of Clark.  He’s a soldier and maybe it’s not true of all soldiers, but Sam Lane is a man who sees almost everything purely black and white. 

“Are you going to prom tonight?” asks Mr. Morningstar. 

Chloe wasn’t expecting that question.  “I wasn’t planning on it.”

A smile spreads across Mr. Morningstar’s lips.  “How about you and Oliver join my family for dinner this evening,” he invites.  “I’m not saying you should stop worrying sick about Clark, but it seems that the two of you could use a good meal.”

Chloe’s lips move upward into a smile to mirror his.  “I think we’d appreciate that.  May we invite Oliver’s girlfriend and my cousin?”

 Mr. Morningstar’s smile widens.  “The more, the merrier.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When referring to Lucifer's father, I know that this chapter is told from Chloe's POV (who isn't aware that Lucifer is in fact the devil), so I don't know, it still seemed appropriate to capitalize that pronoun.


	68. Chapter Sixty-Seven

Chloe has to say, Lucifer Morningstar is a hell of a cook.  Trixie didn’t invite her to her house too much.  When she did, Mr. Morningstar’s specialty always seemed to be in concocting drinks, or at least writing down ideas for martinis for when he opened the Ace of Clubs nightclub.

Mr. Morningstar certainly seems to enjoy company.  Cooking for four guests as well as his daughters, the man didn’t do anything small.  When Chloe saw the dinner table, her eyes were welcomed by ground beef, chopped lettuce, shredded cheese, olives, salsa, chopped peppers, sour cream, and tortillas.  He was kind enough to leave out anything that might have contained nuts, for Oliver’s sake.  Chloe does enjoy taco salad. 

Lois, who always seems to have a bottomless appetite, started filling her plate as soon as she sat down.  For an hour, things seemed almost normal.  They were all sharing dinner, everyone was dressed up somewhat.  Oliver doesn’t wear cheap clothing, but he’s usually more relaxed in terms of attire compared to someone like Lex, or even Clark. 

Before going over for dinner, Oliver dropped Chloe off at her house.  She found her cousin waiting for her there.  Chloe didn’t exchange words with Lois much beyond asking her if she would like to go to Lucifer’s house for dinner.  She wondered if Lois agreed simply so that she could spend time with her. 

It didn’t matter much as Chloe changed out of her clothes into something a little more formal.  Chloe safely assumed that she didn’t need to go all-formal, so she put on what she was sure could have passed for a Sunday dress.  At least Chloe thinks so.  She can’t remember the last time she had been to church, even for research purposes.  Still, she liked the wide short-sleeved reddish brown dress she picked with a knee-length skirt.  Given how the V-shaped neckline goes down to her sternum, perhaps it’s a little too revealing for a Sunday dress.  It’s not even Sunday either.

Lois didn’t have anything fancy to wear and none of Chloe’s clothes fit her.  Still, she didn’t look so bad in her jeans and blouse. 

Rather than inconvenience Oliver by having to have him pick them up, Chloe opted to drive her and Lois to Lucifer’s house.  She even let Lois choose the radio station.

Lucifer does have a nice house, if Chloe will be honest.  The three-bedroom, single story house is quite charming.  It certainly has a big enough kitchen in order for someone like Lucifer Morningstar to have some fun in the kitchen.  The dining table sits next to the living room and Chloe knows for a fact that sometimes, like when eating breakfast, Trixie and her little sister, Emma, will watch television while eating breakfast.

No one is watching television right now.  Lucifer sure knows how to lighten a mood when he wants to, or at least distract everyone from current issues.  Even Trixie had a fun time telling everyone about a particular event when she needed Lucifer’s help with something. 

She told them about a time when Trixie needed help with a Christmas activity.  As part of some charity sponsor, a few precincts within the L.A.P.D., including the one her mother and biological father were in, were putting together some sort of Santa’s toyshop event for one of the children’s centers.  They went all out.  The fundraiser must have collected a total of five hundred and sixty thousand dollars for the children’s center.  Donations of money and toys poured in over the course of a week to the point that the lobbies of three precincts were stacked high with presents. 

The toyshop itself was an enormous mockup of buildings, or at least entrances to buildings, using props that were donated from one of the film production companies.  Trixie’s mother’s precinct, stepping in, you wouldn’t have recognized it a police station. 

The receptionist’s desk was removed and replaced with a large chair for Santa Claus himself to sit in.  Unfortunately, the man that was supposed to dress up as Santa came down with pneumonia and had to cancel at the last minute.  That’s when Trixie came up with a bright idea. 

Lucifer’s face blushes scarlet as Trixie tells them how he was talked into dressing up as Santa.  They put him into a fat suit and, before anyone could stop her, Trixie had _glued_ a Santa Claus beard to his face. It wasn’t superglue.  It was Elmer’s glue from her art box.  Still, it took some effort to get it off afterward. 

The most awkward part of it all is that Santa was the one who made the naughty list.  This was before Lucifer and Trixie’s mother were together and  just before children started pouring in, Santa was found—Trixie uses the word “cuddling” since Emma is in the room—with one of his helpers.  The woman was a volunteer, not one of the officers. 

Lucifer merely explained that he was “honing his police consulting skills.”  The woman needed to be “investigated.”  Lucifer was lucky that the whole event wasn’t called off.  At least he behaved as child after child came to sit on his lap.  He hated children at the time.  Chloe can only imagine his discomfort. 

“It was karma,” mutters Lucifer as he takes a sip of wine.

All eyes are on him now, but he seems unperturbed.

“Why was it karma, Daddy?” asks Emma, who sits to his immediate left. 

Lucifer sets his wineglass down and smiles at his daughter.  “As your sister explained, I did not like children at the time.  She went to heroic lengths to get me to like her, or at least children in general.  Me dressing up as Santa Claus was just one of many attempts to get me to like her.”

“You could have said no,” Trixie reminds him teasingly.  “But where Mom was involved, you were less of a devil and more of a mawkish, yet arrogant sweetheart.”

Lucifer raises an eyebrow.  “Mawkish?” he repeats.  “Me?  Just who do you think you are talking to, young lady?”

“A mawkish devil,” replies Trixie sweetly.

“Why does everyone call you ‘the devil’?” Chloe asks suddenly.  All eyes turn to her.  Depending on the situation, she doesn’t mind being the center of attention.  When something she writes earns her hate mail, despite Clark’s typical overprotectiveness, she was never bothered by it.  Now she has been nominated for prom queen and it’s a little uncomfortable.  The nomination caught her by surprise. 

The dance is in a couple of hours.  Chloe isn’t ready for a dance.  Well, that’s not completely true.  Her hair is piled up on her head in an elegant hairdo and she is wearing long earrings that used to belong to her mother.  She supposes she could have chosen a different perfume than one of the ones Clark bought her.

Then again, of all the things Trixie has gotten her, perfume hasn’t been one of them.

She maintains her composure.  “It just seems like a really harsh term.”

The only person besides Lucifer and his family who looks to not share her skepticism is Oliver.  What does he know?

Lucifer Morningstar smiles at her from the head of the table.  “I do suppose if we’re going to be working together, full disclosure is in order.”  He rises from his chair and the most unbelievable thing happens.  Something, that makes Tess choke on her sip of wine, Lois fall out of her chair, and Chloe…she’s seen enough weirdness in her life.  Still, seeing those wings, those majestic wings that are whiter than a Vera Wang wedding gown, are arguably stranger than having an extraterrestrial ex-boyfriend.

“Um, wow,” she mutters.  She’s a writer and even Clark didn’t render her so monosyllabic when she found out his secret.  Also, it does help that Chloe was already very suspicious of Clark.  His reveal just confirmed her suspicions.  This…she was unprepared for this.

“You don’t seem too surprised,” observes Mr. Morningstar. 

Chloe blinks a few times before clearing her throat.  “I…I’ve dealt with enough weirdness in my life; I’m not completely unprepared for holiness.”

That sparks laughter from Lucifer, Emma, _and_ Trixie.

“I would hardly consider him holy,” says a voice that Chloe recognizes, but did not come from this table.

Everyone turns and their eyes fall upon Diana.  She looks good, wearing a dark blazer and white blouse with her hair up in a bun.  She looks like a businesswoman.  Chloe also feels that she has chosen a bad time to reappear.

“Aunt Di,” Oliver addresses icily.  “Better late than never…wouldn’t you say?”

Diana’s face turns cold as Oliver’s voice.  “I’m sorry about Clark, Oliver, but…”

“You don’t get to mention my brother,” Oliver interrupts, his voice rising.  “I’m sure you would have saved him if you could’ve, but either way you have a lot of nerve showing up here.”

“If I interrupt,” begins Lucifer.  The sound of his voice catches everyone’s attention.  For a man so handsome, his voice seems capable of making the very temperature in the room drop.  “Obviously, the two of you have plenty of things to work out, but not in my house, is that clear?”

Oliver and Diana face the devil, whose wings have—Chloe wants to say “retracted,” but they aren’t claws.  He also looks not to be tested.  Chloe has seen him very angry, in such a way that has made some of her classmates walk out of his office looking like they saw their worst nightmare. 

“Crystal clear,” replies Diana.  Chloe suspects that she hadn’t been so subordinate in very long time, if ever.

“As you wish,” replies Oliver.  He sits back down.  Lucifer offers Diana a chair and she pulls it up to the table.  All the while, she and Oliver keep their eyes locked on each other.  Chloe steals a glance at Tess.  She’s normally pretty good at helping Oliver get through his angrier moods.  Right now, even she looks afraid of testing him.

Everyone resumes eating and Lucifer gets up to get Diana a plate. 

Chloe starts eating again as well, but then feels a hand on her shoulder.  She looks up.  It’s Trixie. 

“Can we talk in private for a minute?” she asks.

Chloe nods before she can stop herself.  It’s exactly what she’s been wanting.  Why is she so nervous about it?  She excuses herself and rises out of her chair.  Then, she follows Trixie to her bedroom in the basement. 

She’s been in Trixie’s room a few times, sometimes not with all of her clothes.  Once they reach her bedroom, Trixie shuts the door behind them.  They don’t speak for a few minutes.  Chloe takes a moment to observe her room. 

It’s a nice room with her queen-sized bed, vanity table, large dresser and television set.  All those things and she still has plenty of room to get up and walk around.  She spots something on the bed and picks it up.  It’s an application for the Metropolis Police Academy.

“So you’re serious about applying?” she asks, remembering all the times she talked about it.  “I’m happy for you, Trixie.”

“Thanks,” Trixie says quietly.  She comes to sit down next to her.  Chloe wishes she would meet her eyes.  “I know I’ve been avoiding you, Chloe,” she says.  “And I really do like that dress you bought for me.”

That is actually nice for Chloe to hear.  “So, what’s the problem?”

“I don’t know if I can do this,” replies Trixie, her eyes shiny.  “Chloe, you’ve been a wonderful girlfriend, but as this whole prom thing came up, and as Clark disappeared, I’m…I’m just not sure that I’m ready for all this.”

Chloe is dumbstruck for a minute.  Is she breaking up with her?  She shakes her head.  “No, Trixie, sure you can.  We’ve kissed in the middle of the school hallways, the cafeteria, and even at football games.  The only difference is that we will both be wearing dresses.”

Trixie laughs softly.  “I wish I could see it as simple as that.”  She finally locks eyes with Chloe.  “Chloe, do you really think that I’ve been fair to you?”

Chloe wasn’t expecting that.  “What?”

“Chloe, not long after we first met, I had a crush on your cousin, Lois,” Trixie reminds her.  “We shared coffees once or twice, but it wasn’t long before I figured out that she wasn’t interested in me.  Then, not long after that, I start showing interest in you.  Are you telling me that you never felt like you were a second choice?  I like you Chloe, I really do.  You’re funny, smart, beautiful, clever, and you don’t stop chasing down stories until you have it.  But do you think there might have been a moment that felt like I had shown interest in you because we all thought I couldn’t have Lois?”

Chloe wants to say no, but she can’t.  Trixie is right.  Not only that, but she’s expressing the same fears and doubts she has been lately.  She tries to fight back the tears building up in her eyes. 

Trixie smiles sadly.  “I’ll go to this dance with you, but after that, I think we should stop seeing each other.”

Chloe nods numbly.  The two of them sit in silence for several minutes.  Is this what Clark felt like when she broke up with him?  Is this karma?  “I guess I should go to my house and change into my prom dress,” she says with a forced laugh.

“I still can’t believe you wouldn’t show me a picture of it,” Trixie tells her indignantly. 

They share a laugh.  “So, should we head back upstairs?” asks Chloe.

Instead of answering, Trixie gets up and offers her hand.  Chloe accepts it and together they leave the basement. 

What they see when they reach upstairs catches them both off-guard.  Chloe immediately turns hostile as her hands ball into fists and her nostrils flare.  It's a wonder that she even has enough self-control to keep from pouncing on Lucifer's latest guest.  

“Lex Luthor, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Lex stands in the foyer, oddly cool despite the collective hostility surrounding him.  “I was told that I would find Oliver Queen here.  Also, I think it’s about time that cash in that favor I owe you, Mr. Morningstar.”

Lucifer scoffs.  “Really and how do you expect to do that?”

“Because I know where Clark Queen is,” replies Lex, eyeing Oliver, Tess, then Chloe. 


	69. Chapter Sixty-Eight

Lex Luthor’s presence is most unexpected.  For Oliver, he almost wants to say _of all the gin joints and all the places in the world…_   It doesn’t seem to be appropriate. 

As soon as Lex says that he knows where Clark is, Oliver’s grip on his temper fails.  He just about lunges at him, but Chloe gets to him first.  Oliver stands back for a minute and just stares. 

Chloe is a small young woman.  All year, he has seen her and Clark spar while Clark is under the influence of blue kryptonite.  She is a hell of a fighter and Clark has taught her how to take on a foe twice her size.  Actually, Clark might be _three_ times her size.  Oliver doesn’t know the full extent of Lex’s hand-to-hand combat skills, but clearly they don’t compare to Chloe’s.

Right now Chloe isn’t fighting with any dignity or with show of actual skill.  She has pounced on Lex like a wild animal.  She has managed to knock him to the ground and is now straddling his chest, punching him over and over.  All the while, Lex tries to block her blows with his flailing hands and Trixie tries to tear Chloe off of him.

Trixie turns towards the dinner table.  “Little help here please?” she pleads amidst the thrashings of Chloe and her own efforts to tear her off Lex. 

Oliver doesn’t waste any time.  Having already risen from his chair at the dinner table, he surges forward and bends down to grab Chloe.  Her movements are so wild, that he actually gets hit in the face by one of her elbows.  “That’s going to leave a bruise,” he mutters between his teeth.  He tries to ignore the pain as he managed to grab Chloe’s arm while Trixie grabs the other arm. 

“LET GO OF ME!” she screams. 

Oliver’s grip on Chloe does not budge and nor does Trixie’s, who seems surprisingly strong.  He turns his gaze toward Lex, who is still on the ground.  His face is heavily bruised now and rivers of blood are pouring from his nose and mouth.

“First Lois and now you, Lex,” Oliver observes, while straining against Chloe.  “Chloe seems to have a nasty habit of losing her temper when it comes to Clark.”  His eye catches Trixie and she doesn’t seem to share his amusement all that much.  In fact, if he’s not mistaken, she seems a little jealous.  Perhaps he has spoken too much. 

“Okay, Chloe, it’s time to calm down,” Oliver tells Chloe.  She meets his gaze.  Her eyes are crazy.  Beneath that craziness, he does have to admit the sense of affection she feels for his brother.  He hasn’t been around through the duration of their relationship, but what he does see is truly special.  Both she and his brother seem to have convinced themselves that things are platonic between them.  Based on what he sees, Oliver isn’t sure that that is the case.  After all she’s now completely lost control not once, but twice against people who have been involved in Clark’s abduction.

“Chloe, he can’t tell us what he knows if you beat him to a pulp,” Oliver explains frankly.  “So I need you to please calm down.”  Lord knows _he_ wants to do much worse than beat Lex to a pulp, but they need information.

Chloe is still breathing hard, but she relaxes in Oliver’s hands. 

“Trixie and I are going to let go of you now,” Oliver tells her.  He loosens his grip and Chloe yanks herself out of his and Trixie’s grips.  She blows a puff of air at her hair, some of which has fallen into her face. 

As Trixie tentatively steers her away from Lex, Oliver stands over Lex.  For one who is always scheming in one way or another, Oliver finds himself reminded of Duncan Allenmeyer.  Oliver didn’t attend private school, but he did stay in touch with some of his friends who did go to Excelsior Academy.  One time, when hanging out with them while their parents had one of their social gatherings, Oliver remembers his friends talking about the poor kid. 

Duncan Allenmeyer was that scholarship kid that Lex befriended.  Lex, who was desperate to prove himself worthy of the other elites’ friendship, beat poor Duncan to a pulp.  Worse yet, Duncan backed up into an oncoming car. 

Looking at Lex now, being down on the ground, bloodied and whimpering, Oliver has never seen this side of him.  Knowing from his parents’ conversations he and Clark overheard growing up, Oliver remembers Lex having been physically and emotionally abused by his parents.  He losing his hair after the meteor shower that gave Oliver his little brother only exacerbated his abuse. 

Still, he could have chosen his own friendships over his ambitions. 

Oliver rolls his eyes and bends down, offering his hand.  Lex stares at his hand dubiously.  Soon though, he grasps Oliver’s hand and Oliver helps him to his feet.  As he gets to his feet, Oliver has to steady him.  Better thought, he steers his brother’s old friend to a chair at the dinner table.

Oliver doesn’t give him much time to recuperate.  “Alright, Lex, talk.  Where is Clark?  How do we get there?  How do we getting him out?  How much is Lois Lane’s father involved?”

“Would you slow down?” interrupts Lex.  “I can only answer one question at a time.”

“Answer the questions, Lex,” demands Tess, coming around with a box of tissues.  Oliver can swear the very temperature in the room drops as the half-siblings lock eyes with each other.  “I warned you messing with the Queens would be a bad idea, _brother_.”  She says the word as if it’s poison in her mouth.  “Let’s start with the first question—where is Clark?”

“Oh, Tess…you’ve really deluded yourself into thinking that the Queens are your family, haven’t you?” taunts Lex as he selects a tissue and squeezes his nose with it.  “How long do you think it will be before your Prince Charming here leaves you for another woman?  He might even go back to one of his high school crushes.  How many was it, Oliver?  Laurel Lance?  Felicity Smoak?  Even that mobster’s daughter, Helena Bertinelli?” 

Oliver’s expression remains blank, with effort.  He turns to Diana.  “Please tell me you brought it, Aunt Di?”

Diana smiles softly.  Oliver’s not sure he’s ready to admit it, but the woman is a bit of a _de facto_ mother to him and Clark.  He watches, genuinely entertains as she reaches into her blazer and her hand reemerges with her lasso.  In a movement that could put a lot of Old Westerns to shame, she wraps the glowing rope around Lex’s chest. 

Lex stares down at the object around him.  Even Lois is a bit astonished by the object.  “What the hell is this thing?”

Oliver takes up the opportunity to answer that question.  “Think of it as a mystical polygraph where even a good liar like you can’t lie.  Also, the more you resist, the more it hurts.” 

“ _You took the words right out of my mouth_ ,” Diana praises in Ancient Greek.

Despite how angry he is with her, Oliver smiles back.  “ _I wasn’t going to let_ you _have all the fun_.” 

“You speak Ancient Greek?” asks Lex, sounding flabbergasted in that subtle tone of his.  “Wow, I never thought…”

Oliver smiles condescendingly.  “We can both agree I’m not as smart as you, but I’m not an idiot either.  Sounds like for once, there’s something Clark and I know that you don’t.”

Lex laughs, although it sounds strained.  “I speak a number of languages; strangely enough, I can only read Ancient Greek.”

“Actually, the Ancient Greek that Oliver and his brother know predates the written Ancient Greek that you know,” Diana informs him coolly.  “Now, for the third time, where is Clark.”

“You’re not going to like the answer,” Lex warns tensely.  Oliver could tell him that it’s no use against this lasso.  “Clark…is imprisoned…in the Pacific…on an island called Starfish Island.”

Oliver narrows his eyes.  “What?”

“Starfish Island,” repeats Lex, exasperated.  “What, have you heard of it?”

Oliver finds himself sinking into a chair.  It’s the island he spent five years on.  It was a relatively big island situated in the middle of the ocean.  “But, how can he be on that island?  There are no installations there.”

“A privately funded organization has been building a facility there all year,” explains Lex.  “I only found out about it a couple of months ago.”

“So what exactly are we up against?” asks Diana. 

“Delta force, private contractors, a few ex-Navy SEALs, mostly people handpicked by General Sam Lane,” replies Lex, eyeing Lois. 

Oliver nods slowly.  “Lovely, so we’re up against a US military brute squad on an Alcatraz-meets-Auschwitz facility.  I _love_ those odds.”

“ _They don’t have a Princess of Themyscira, darling,_ ” Diana reminds him with a wink. 

 _“Are you trying to give me a vote of confidence, or yourself_?” asks Oliver, pessimistically.

Lex rolls his eyes.  “There is only one way on or off the island.  I was able to visit Clark because I happen to have an agreement with General Lane.  I had to go through more hoops than it takes to visit the White House just to bring some of my staff along.”

Oliver sits up straighter and exchanges a look with his girlfriend, then looks at Lex with a devious smile.

Lex seems to realize what they are suggesting.  He scoffs.  “You’re too recognizable!  Oliver Queen pretending to be one of my bodyguards…you’d have better luck walking in a mall in Star City without someone recognizing you.  General Lane has seen each of you at least once or twice and, Lois, is your father someone to forget a face?”

Everyone turns to her, who seems to have walked into a quiet corner.  “My dad never forgets a face,” she confirms.  And I’m his daughter; Chloe is his niece.  What you’re going to have to do is figure out the General’s schedule.  He’s never in one place for long periods of time.  He always calls me whenever he is at the nearest base.  He called me yesterday.”

“What’d he say?” demands Chloe, frantically.

Lois inhales and exhales slowly.  “He wants to have dinner.”

Oliver thinks about that.  “Would you consider wearing a wire?”

“Do I have any choice in the matter?” asks Lois cleverly. 

“Not really,” replies Oliver.  “I want my brother back and I’ll hold you for ransom if it means saving him.”  He says it impulsively, but immediately sees how that could go wrong in about twenty different ways.  General Lane could kill him with a drone.

“You might now believe me, but I actually want to help Clark,” Lois hisses defensively.  “Put a wire on me and I’ll meet my father for dinner.  I’ve learned a long time ago how to work certain things into a conversation.  If I can convince him to meet me somewhere _off_ -base, you could even set up a mousetrap.”

Oliver nods slowly.  “Maybe we can work something out.”  He turns back to Lex.  “Alright, Aunt Di, you can release him now.”  Diana loosens the lasso and Lex inhales deeply, shrugging some feeling back into his arms. 

“I don’t say this often, but that thing is weird,” he says uncertainly.

“Welcome to Smallville,” announces Chloe with that signature snarky tone of hers.

“Is anyone planning on mopping up that mess of blood on my wooden floor?” asks Lucifer, speaking up for the first time.

Oliver stares at the spot where Chloe beat the hell out of Lex just a few minutes before.

“We better save Clark before we _all_ become as unhinged as her,” he mutters softly. 


	70. Chapter Sixty-Nine

Lois plays with her knife as she sits at the round table.  Her father chose an upscale restaurant for dinner.  Lois would have been satisfied with a French restaurant, but he doesn’t speak a word of French.  This place isn’t as upscale as any of the places Clark took her to.  Those places are way above her father’s salary.

Naturally, Lois needed to dress up.  She did have a dress to wear.  She had other plans for the dress.  Before she broke up with Clark—no before she even found out his secret—she had spent two years’ worth of savings on a red strapless evening gown with black trim.  She knows that blue is his favorite color, but red is probably his second favorite.  Plus, Lois doesn’t feel that blue suits her as well as red does.  Eventually, she was hoping to surprise him with this dress. 

She had a set of pearls that once belonged to her mother that she also wanted to wear with the dress.  She’s not wearing them this evening; her dad would kill her.  He has no idea she has them.  Also he rarely talks about her mother.  Lois wouldn’t be surprised if he forgot all about the pearls.  Still, she needs this evening to work; it wasn’t worth the risk. 

The dress itself, for once, she picked without anyone’s help.  Chloe knows a lot more about dresses than she does.  All Lois cares about is what looks good as well as what she thinks she will enjoy wearing.  She’s sure Chloe and even Tess share that sentiment, but Lois doesn’t know designer names. 

The dress features a figure-hugging bodice that overs a view of her bosom with making a heavy display of her cleavage.  Lois isn’t a fan of tight skirts, or even mermaid skirts even if they are a little more tolerable.  The skirt on this dress flairs out a little more.  If she remembers her dress vocabulary, it’s something of a lazy A-line skirt that stops at her knees.  When she compared the price of the dress to her budget, she still had enough to buy a pair of shoes to go with it.  She bought a pair of black three-inch open-toed Prada shoes with ankle straps.    

When she put on the dress, as angry as her cousin has every right to be with her, even Chloe thought she looked beautiful.  Lois had decoratively put her hair in lazy curls, draping it around her shoulder.  For a minute, she could swear everyone forgot what her real purpose was.  Then reality kicked back in. 

Lois was given a microphone to hide in her cleavage of all places, as per Lucifer’s idea, and an earpiece to discreetly hide in the depths of her ear.  Everyone drilled Lois about everything she needed to do, what questions to ask, how to avoid taking her questions to far, and to keep a level head.  How can she keep a level head?  Her father used her!  Still, she just nodded, thinking it was better for everyone to just play ball.

Lois is here at the restaurant now, waiting for her father.  He may have raised to the rank of two-star general for bravery as well as whatever other exploits he performed as a soldier, but that’s about where his attributes end.  He had never been punctual, not even for family events.  He missed at least nine of Lois and her sister’s birthdays each.  He said to be at this restaurant at nineteen hundred hours sharp.  That was thirty minutes ago.

The longer Lois waits, the more she can picture Oliver, Chloe, Tess, Diana, Lucifer, and even Lex getting antsy.  Over her earpiece, based on what she overhears, it sounds like Lucifer went out and bought everyone pizza and breadsticks.  That sounds a lot more appetizing than three-hundred-dollar appetizers as far as Lois is concerned at the moment. 

She looks down at herself.  Looking at her dress, her skin crawls with bitter rage.  She was just dressing for a dinner with her father.  She feels overdressed.  The dress was meant for Clark Queen.  Perhaps, by wearing it, she’s showing her anger towards her father.

Regardless of her mixed feelings about pursuing a relationship with Clark any further, she’s just angry.  It’s not the romance—which was admittedly awkward for her from the start—that Lois misses.  It’s the friendship she longs for.  Clark was a friend.  Now, she’s quite certain that that friendship is gone forever. 

Also, the longer Lois waits, the more tempted she is to switch from water to something stronger.  The waiter keeps ogling her.  Maybe with enough sweet talk, she can convince him to get her a glass of vodka.  She’s nineteen and already she’s had some experience with heavy drinking.  Clark, ever so candid, wasn’t afraid of telling her when her breath stank of alcohol. 

Finally, she spots her father.  He stands near the entrance, wearing his formal uniform complete with his decorations.  By the bulge in one of his coat pockets, Lois can get he has cigars.  She’s sure he’s smart enough to not smoke in this building. 

“He’s here,” Lois mutters very subtly into her cleavage. 

“ _Don’t screw this up_ ,” Oliver warns into her earpiece. 

Ignoring the harsh tone of Clark’s brother, Lois rises to her feet.  As she locks eyes with her father, Lois almost chokes up at the way her father smiles.  He closes the distance between them. 

“I’m so sorry I’m late, Lo,” the general apologizes.  He looks her over and through her anger, Lois feels a little self-conscious.  “You look gorgeous, sweetheart.”

Now Lois openly blushes.  The blatant compliments offered by her father are few and far between.  “Thank you, Daddy.”

“ _Focus_ ,” Oliver reminds her.  “ _Ow!_ ”

Lois inhales sharply as the earpiece screeches in her ear. 

“ _Shut up, Oliver!_ ” snaps what sounds like Chloe’s voice.

“Everything okay, Lois?” asks the general, noticing her wince. 

Lois manages a smile.  “I’m fine, Daddy.  I’m just ready to order something.”

“Well then,” says the general.  Lois watches as he steps behind her and pulls out her chair a little further.  She rolls her eyes as she sits down.  Then, her father takes his own seat. 

The waiter reappears.  Lois catches him proceeding to ogle her, but then he notices her father.  She doubts her father caught him ogling her, but the waiter seems smart enough to see how fierce he is.  It’s not a wise idea to be admiring her in any fashion, hardly even in the form of a compliment, when her father is around.  Sometimes it’s charming, but Lois would prefer her father to relax just a little.

Her father orders red wine.  “Lois, sweetheart, would like anything other than water?  A soda, sparkling cider, anything?”

Lois shakes her head with a smile.  “No thanks, Daddy.”

Her father orders a steak and fried rice.  Lois orders a sautéed shrimp and pasta.  Once they have ordered and the waiter disappears, the general turns all his attention on Lois. 

“How are you, Lois?” he asks. 

Lois manages a convincing smile perfected from years of practice.  “I’m doing okay.  I’m still recovering from everything that has happened in Smallville in the last month or so,” which is perfectly true. 

Her father nods.  “Yes, Smallville is a strange town.  If you’re tired of living there, I’m more than willing to invite you back to the base.”

Lois gasps.  It might have been a tempting offer at one point, but she can hardly stand to be near him anymore.  Thanks to how he forced her to spy on her friend, she’s lost just about all the friendships she’s made this year.  Chloe is usually very forgiving, but as far as Lois can tell, nothing short of Clark being safe at home will earn her forgiveness. 

“Thanks, but I’m just fine where I am,” Lois insists.

Her father studies her for a minute or two.  “I’m sorry, Lois.”

She can swear she hears a collective gasp on the other side of her earpiece.  “Sorry for what?” she asks, feigning confusion as best she can.

“I’m sorry you had to go through what you did with Clark Queen,” explains her father.  “Spending so much time with that criminal, knowing that he’s not even a human being, it must have been tough on you.  Who knows what might have happened to you if you didn’t get away from him when you did.” 

Do Lois’ eyes deceive her, or is her father actually getting emotional?  His face is the same as always, but his eyes are glistening.  He reaches across the table and grasps her hand. 

“Sweetie, I could have lost you,” he whispers.  “He could have done to you what he did to his own parents.”  He shakes his head.  “If the Queens had any sense, they would have handed him over to the government, or even got rid of him altogether.  Sometimes, a beast can’t be tamed.  Sometimes, it should be left to more professional people to better decide what to do with something so dangerous.”

“ _Let him keep it up, Lois_ ,” Oliver growls in her ear.  “ _The more he talks, the slower he’ll die_.”

Her father is in front of her, so she can’t tell him to shut up.  As much as she hates him more than ever right now, he’s still her father.  If she has to, she will murder everyone Clark cares about if it means keeping her father from harm.

“What’s going to happen to him now?” she asks, trying to maintain a conversational tone. 

“Now?” repeats her father.  “Clark Queen is proving to be a very stubborn thing.  He’s definitely willing to endure unnecessary amounts of pain, but every creature has its breaking point.”

“ _In that case, you ought to be careful, General Douche_ ,” warns Oliver’s voice.  “ _You may not like the kind of beast that my brother is capable of being._ ”

“So you’re torturing him is what you’re telling me?” asks Lois.  “Clark might as well be on the same level as a terrorist.”

Her father raises an eyebrow.  “Lois, don’t tell me that you actually have feeling for this creature.  If you wanted a pet, I could get you a puppy.  First, I’d have to set you up with a prescription for allergy medicine,” he adds jokingly.  “We don’t negotiate with terrorists, but I’d rather have a cocktail party with high-ranking members of al-Qaeda than trust something like Clark Queen.  All that needs to be done is break him down, show him that we are the bosses of him.  Eventually, he won’t even breathe unless with give him permission to.”

Lois’ father amazes her.  Is this sense of depravity a result of being a soldier for so many years?  She can’t take this anymore.  “Will you excuse me for a minute, Dad?”

“Oh, of course,” replies her father.  “Maybe our food will arrive by the time you get back.”

Lois rises to her feet and heads for the restroom.  Once she enters the restroom, she makes sure she’s alone.  “Okay, move in,” she says. 

“ _Right now_?” asks Oliver.

“Yes, right now!” shouts Lois. 

Oliver doesn’t reply.  Instead, the lights go out.  By the startled gasps Lois hears, she can tell that the whole building has lost power.  Lois reaches into her handbag and pulls out the night vision glasses Oliver gave her.  She puts them on and activates them. Leaving the restroom, she sees people who aren’t sitting down, scurrying in every direction.  Her father is still sitting at their table and she sees him reaching for his cellphone. 

That’s when she sees him go very rigid, as if being stunned.  He falls forward, his face landing on the table and indeed Lois sees a dart protruding from his back.  Not long after, Lois sees who she assumes is Oliver and—Wonder Woman?—standing not far off.  Oliver looks ridiculous enough in that green leather jacket with a hood and brandishing that bow, but what’s Wonder Woman doing here?     

“Oliver, you look stupid,” says Lois.

“Thanks, Lois,” says Oliver, his voice distorted.  “Maybe my brother will find himself a gimmick as well.  You’ve seen how he dressed for Halloween.”

Lois remembers.  It was that blue tunic with a red hood with his bow and katana slung across his back.  The Queen boys need costume advice.  “And when did Wonder Woman get involved in all of this?” she asks amid the chaos.   

Oliver and Wonder Woman share a look.  Wonder Woman sighs.  “There’s no point in lying.  I’m Diana Prince, Miss Lane.”

Lois looks at Oliver.  He nods.  “Anything else I don’t know?”

“Your dad is a xenophobic prick?” asks Oliver. 

Lois scowls as she reaches her father and inspects him.  “Hey, that’s still my dad, Robin Hood.  Anything I _don’t_ know?”

“You look very beautiful,” offers Oliver. 

Lois gapes at him.  Clark’s brother has been nothing but angry with her; the compliment hits her like a freight train.  She’s suddenly very self-conscious.  “Thank you, Oliver.”  She looks down at her father.  “So, since we are already putting ourselves at risk of military prison by kidnapping my father, who is going to help me carry him?” she asks. 

Oliver steps forward and places one of her father’s arms around his shoulders.  “You’re wearing a dress; let Diana do it.”

Lois watches as the two haul her father away.  When he wakes up, _pissed_ will be bliss compared to how angry he will be.


	71. Chapter Seventy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the long wait. Please prepare yourselves for this chapter.

“This was a horrible idea,” Chloe groans.  She stares at her uncle with his wrists and ankles tied to a metal chair, unconscious with his covered head down in front of him.  Of all places, they are in the penthouse which will eventually be Lucifer Morningstar’s Ace of Clubs nightclub.  The place is still a bit of a mess of equipment and boxes, but Chloe feels that it’s starting to gain some of the pleasurable vibe it’s supposed to have. 

It’s also unknown to most.  It’s not in the middle of nowhere, but Lucifer has maintained that this place isn’t safe.  Only a select few are ever allowed up here.  Maybe they are safe from whoever will be looking for her uncle. 

Knowing him, as soon as Oliver and Diana brought him up, they frisked him.  They removed anything and everything that might have had a silent panic alarm that would have had the Army raining down on them.  The only things they left on him are his undershirt, boxers and socks.  Oliver was paranoid enough, that he removed the general’s dog tags. 

Chloe took comfort in knowing that she wasn’t the only one who thought that a tad excessive, but if Clark’s wellbeing is enough to leave her short-fused, Oliver is about ready to point a bazooka at the White House if it means saving his brother.   

Personally, Chloe feels that Diana might very well be able to take on the United States Army, but the question is will she do it?  She’s not a U.S. citizen, so far as Chloe knows.  She hasn’t found a right time to ask, but she wonders if Diana even has a visa or if she maintains dual citizenship.  Either way, her safest assumption is that the woman considers France her country of origin. 

She could be deported.  Worse, she could be imprisoned.  She could be forced into being a weapon of war.  She’s not bulletproof like Clark; she can be killed.  She could be overwhelmed by the power of the Army and Clark and Oliver would lose yet another family member.

Although, she once tore through no man’s land in the First World War without a scratch; she should be able to handle herself against an Army battalion. 

“You’re right, this is a terrible idea,” agrees Oliver. 

“And yet it was all _your_ idea to kidnap my dad—a _two-star general_ —and tie him up like this!” snaps Lois.

“Well now he knows how those guys at Guantanamo Bay feel,” Oliver says dryly. 

“Do you even know what goes on at Gitmo?” asks Lois skeptically.

“Do you?”

Chloe looks from one to the other as they speak.  Lois nods in Oliver’s direction.

“Touché, Robin Hood,” she compliments. 

“Are you two going to kiss it out or kill each other?” asks Chloe before she can stop herself.

They stare down at her.  “Coming from the girl who keeps looking at me like she’s ready to do a worse number on me than poor Lex Luthor?”

“And do you really think I could kiss another girl—you are quite kissable Lois, when you’re being a nicer bitch—and not get my ass kicked by Tess?” asks Oliver.  “You’ve seen her beat the hell out of me.”

Chloe steals a glance at her cousin.  She blushes a little, mixed with an indignant look.  No doubt she’s trying to figure out if what Oliver just told her was a compliment or not.  Her eyes return to Oliver and they share a private smile.  Chloe has witnessed Tess beat the hell out of him. 

She and Clark enjoyed that little show very much. 

“Do you think we should leave the room in case he wakes up?” asks Lois.  “I mean if Daddy sees either one of you, one way or another he won’t rest until the two of you are rotting in prison cells or worse.”

Chloe and Oliver share a look.  She hates to admit it, but Chloe’s cousin is voicing the fears that are already prevalent in her mind.  Her uncle has never let those who cross him go unpunished.  Chloe’s dad might have a high income working for Queen Industries, but that’s not going to protect her from her uncle. 

She has never been on her uncle’s bad side.  She has witnessed his wrath towards Lois and Lucy.  Lucy may be more openly rebellious than Lois, but Lucy is also more vulnerable to their father’s wrath.  A year younger than her, Chloe has seen Lucy reduces to tears—even seen her wet herself once—just from her Uncle Sam’s scowl. 

Is Chloe prepared for her uncle’s bad side?  Is she prepared to no longer be her uncle’s favorite niece—even if she is his only niece? 

All she can do is remind herself that this is for the sake of Clark. 

Soon, she hears her uncle groan from beneath the hood over his head.  Just as quickly, he snaps up, making everyone jump.  He struggles against his restraints. 

“Where the hell am I?” demands the general.  “Untie me right now!”

“Shut up,” says Oliver, his voice distorted through a voice changer.  “You’re not getting out of those restraints and no one is coming for you.”

Chloe wonders if he’s showing restraint on Lois’ behalf, or if he has suddenly developed a certain amount of patience. 

“Who are you?” demands the general.  “Do you have any idea who I am?”

“Which question do you want me to answer first?” asks Oliver as he begins to pace in a circle around the general.  “If it’s first question, I can tell you that I’m guy who is going to hurt you if you don’t answer my questions.  As for the second question, I know exactly who you are.  You’re a xenophobic, gun-toting soldier boy who loves his cigars.  You’re an absentee father who thinks with the barrel of a gun when he sees something he doesn’t understand.  Speaking of which, how do you think your wife would feel about being a said absentee father?  Oh, that’s right, she died, didn’t she?  Good thing she did.  She doesn’t have to see the man you are.”

Chloe gasps.  That’s low, even Oliver.  Next to her, Lois is breathing hard as tears glitter in her eyes.  Her hands are balled into fists and her knuckles are white.  She begins to advance on Oliver, but Chloe reaches out and locks her cousin’s arm in a vice grip.  Lois rounds on her.  Chloe wordlessly shakes her head no.  Lois should know that, thanks to some of her martial arts training under Clark’s tutelage, Chloe can easily subdue her.  At least she should be able to.  She can beat Clark in a fight when he’s under the influence of blue kryptonite. 

She still wonders if Clark regrets teaching her how to beat someone much bigger than her so well. 

Her uncle breathes hard.  Eventually a chuckle escapes his lips.  “Oh, you’re good, whoever you are.  Either you are somebody I’ve met before, or you’re acquainted with someone I know, or you are somebody who is thorough with his research.  Either way, surely you’re well aware that I’ve gone through extensive resistance-to-interrogation training.”

Oliver leans in as he paces with a wicked grin that sends chills down Chloe’s spine.  “I’m counting on it,” he says in what in any other case, Chloe feels, would be a bit seductive.

The door opens and she turns around.  Her eyes fall upon Diana and Lucifer.  Diana is no longer in her Wonder Woman outfit.  Instead she is simply wearing a sleeveless blouse with a navy blue pencil skirt and open-toed high heels, looking more like a businesswoman.  It looks uncharacteristically unprofessional on her, but she’s casually swishing around her lasso.

Chloe’s not sure she would see it as a compliment, but the way the lasso glows, it looks like a circus performance.  She’s not sure if Diana likes the idea of being told that she could be a circus performer.

“I’m sure you’ve been water-boarded, slapped around, punched around, kicked around, even electrocuted, but I doubt you have been lassoed,” taunts Oliver.

“What?  Lassoed?” repeats the general.  “What is this, a rodeo?”

“And you’re the bull,” replies Diana.  She stops spinning the lasso in a casual manner.  Chloe drags Lois out of the way as the dressed-down Wonder Woman swishes the lasso much like a cowgirl before tossing it.  The mystical rope wraps around the general and he goes rigid. 

“What is this thing?” he asks, starting to sound a little fearful.  For Chloe, who has never heard such an emotion from her uncle, it sounds quite strange. 

It’s Lucifer who answers.  “Ever heard of a truth serum?” he asks.  “You’re a military man; I’m quite certain a man of your ranking would be aware of such devices.  Imagine it, being able to force the truth out of people without spilling a drop of blood or simulating the sensation of drowning.  Have you personally ever water-boarded anyone?  I’m pretty sure everyone in this room would love to try it on you.”

Chloe looks at Lois and she shakes her head indignantly.  After all he’s done he is still her cousin’s father.  Lois would never harm her father in such a way.  Chloe’s eyes return to her uncle and she sees the lasso glowing just a little brighter.

“I…I’ve…” Chloe can tell he’s trying very hard to resist the lasso’s influence. 

Lucifer laughs joyfully, making Chloe a little uneasy.  “Oh, how silly of me!  I should have mentioned, it is painful to resist telling the truth with that thing wrapped around you.  The more you resist, the more it hurts.  I’ve never been one to inflict violence, although I have been an overseer of torturers for many, many years.  I do enjoy watching people inflict violence however.  Even so, not everyone here is very patient, so do us all a favor and answer all our questions.”

Oliver doesn’t even wait for a reply.  “First question, where is Clark Queen?”

The general paused momentarily, turning his head in the direction of Oliver’s voice.  “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.  Is that what this is all about?”  A pained laugh rumbles out of him.  “I’m betting one of you is Oliver Queen.  Let me tell you something, that boy ought to be rotting in cell for harboring such a dangerous creature!  If his parents were still alive, I personally would have made sure they were convicted for keeping that _thing_ around.  It’s a shame that they couldn’t see what a monster their pet was until it was too late.  They might still be alive.”

Oliver stops pacing abruptly.  Chloe’s blood drains from her face as the angriest look she’s ever seen on the face of her best friend’s brother.  It’s time for her to intervene.  She’s too late.  Oliver being his fist down on the general’s leg so hard, she hears a snap. 

Rightly so, the general screams in pain.  Oliver removes the hood from the man’s head and comes very close to his face.  They are so close their noses are practically touching. 

“How does that feel, General Lane?” growls Oliver.  “Is that what’s happening to my brother?  You hurt him simply because he is from another world?  He hasn’t broken a law in his life.  And you are willing to treat him like a Nazi SS treats a Jew at Auschwitz just because he is not from around here.  Answer the question, or I’ll break your other leg.”

“Oliver!” thunders Diana.  Then she says something in Ancient Greek. 

Whatever she says, Oliver immediately, if not begrudgingly, backs away from Chloe’s uncle. 

Diana says something else in Ancient Greek. 

Oliver whips around to face her.  He responds in Ancient Greek.  By the tone of his voice, he doesn’t sound pleased with whatever Diana told him. 

Chloe watches Diana as she gives him a stern glance.  Breathing hard with his eyes sparkling with tears, Oliver brushes past everyone, walking towards the door to the stairway. 

“ _Et tu,_ Lois?” asks the general, tightly. 

Chloe turns around again and watches the exchange.  The look of betrayal in her uncle’s eyes is so profound she actually feels sorry for him.

“You even looked me in the eye several weeks ago and told me you didn’t love Clark Queen,” explains the general.  “I forgave you for the lack of updates in your investigation into the Queens after the revelation of Clark’s true origins and this is how you thank me?”

Lois’ eyes are cold, as unfeeling as ice.  “Clark Queen is my friend.  In some ways, he’s the brother I never had.  No, I don’t love him, but I’m not going to sit around and let anything bad happen to him either.”

The general scoffs.  “You’re not my daughter.  If and when I get out of here, I never want to see or hear from you again.”  He closes his eyes and looks away as tears pour down his face.  “I may not have been around much, but I loved you, Lois!  That dinner you and I shared.  You knew that that debacle was going to happen, didn’t you?  You…you set me up, didn’t you?”

Lois closes her eyes and looks away.

“DIDN’T YOU?” repeats the general.  “And you, Chloe.”

Chloe snaps to attention, preparing herself for the worst. 

“I always sent you birthday and Christmas gifts.  I looked the other way when I could have shown you the service you’d be doing by having your blood be analyzed, which might have led to a serum that would have saved hundreds, if not thousands of our troops.” 

All Chloe can do is mirror her cousin’s initial coldness.  She’s never forgiven her uncle for wanting to do that to her, for giving her nightmares for months of being experimented on. 

“You all want to know about Clark Queen?” asks the general.  “You can access my laptop, get a layout of the Pacific facility he’s in, and attempt a suicide mission by storming the place.  You’ll still be too late.”

Chloe stops breathing. 

“What do you mean?” demands Diana.

The general smirks.  “Anything that doesn’t serve a purpose is gone.  In ten days’ time, Clark Queen will die.”


	72. Chapter Seventy-One

Clark never thought he would hate sex.  In terms of experience, the only woman he has ever willingly had sex with— _made love to_ —was Chloe Sullivan.  He remembers their first time together vividly.

It was after their whole escapade while he was under the influence of red kryptonite and she an adrenaline-amplifying parasite, he gave her all the details of their topless make-out session.  Wanting a reenactment, they ended up losing their virginity to each other right in his loft above the garage.  Things were awkward to say the least.  With nothing to boost their assertiveness, they were both a little shy about seeing each other naked for the first time. 

Clark’s skin can stop a bullet, but he proved to be quite ticklish.  More than once he giggled uncontrollably under Chloe’s tender touch.  Only when she took him into her mouth did his giggles melt into moans.  He was so responsive to her touch.  Her mouth was unsure, but eager and she brought him to the brink of shattering. 

When she finally released him, he thought it was only gentlemanly to return the favor.  With his tongue and fingers, he made her scream so loud he was happy his parents weren’t home.  If their make-out session in the Talon was enough to make it into the tabloid, being circulated for weeks on end, her screams would have given the both of them unwanted fifteen minutes of super-stardom. 

Finally, he ceased his sweet torture and buried himself inside her.  It took very little time for him to come undone. 

Naturally, they more the made love, the more comfortable they became with each other and their bodies. 

Chloe was the only woman he ever had sex with and even when he was raped by those witches possessing her and Lois, it was the one possessing Chloe who performed the sexual act on him.  Has he thought about sleeping with Lois?  The thought definitely crossed his mind, but he couldn’t deny Lois’ discomfort with touching him from time to time. 

He could never tell if that discomfort came from the fact that he’s her cousin’s ex-boyfriend, or if the eventual knowledge of his otherworldly heritage, or if she just simply didn’t want to touch him.  Trixie Morningstar showed interest in her prior to their relationship.  Could Lois have secretly returned that interest?

Given how her father has treated him, he wouldn’t be surprised if he is also a homophobe. 

Whether she was comfortable with the thought of them touching each other or not, Clark would have choose sex with Lois, or even Lana Lang, or even Lois, Chloe, and Lana than what he’s experience.  He would even have sex with Dawn Stiles instead of this.  God forbid, he would risk being shot up with kryptonite shotgun shells by sleeping with Martha Kent instead of what he’s experienced in this awful cell. 

Every time Clark thinks that Dr. Dollmacher can’t get any more inventive with how she tortures him, it comes back to bite him in the ass.  Literally.  Just eight sessions ago, she introduced a bit of sadomasochism into their…relationship.  Taking up some sort of dominatrix role, she performed anal sex on him with a dildo fashioned out of kryptonite.  It was quite possibly some of the worst pain—and pleasure—Clark ever experienced.

In that same session, she jerked him off.  Her hands were surprising soft and nimble.  When she brought him to the point of ejaculation, she collected as much of his semen as she could into a beaker.  In that room, while he was subdued by kryptonite emitters, she studied his semen under a microscope. 

Whatever she had discovered, it must have intrigued her.  Just how different is his semen, and by extension his sperm, from a human male’s?  Clark is for the most part a straight-A student and he did pretty well in Biology.  What never crossed his mind however was using biology to study and compare his own genetics to that of humans.

While he longs to not have to hide who he is, he never gave much thought to how different he is compared to humans.

Dr. Dollmacher’s discoveries by studying his sperm must have given her some sort of epiphany.  Since then, every time she comes in she has been having sex with him.  Not taking any chances, she has left the kryptonite emitters on while she has sex with him. 

He has considered warning her that prolonged exposure to kryptonite, especially at this amount, can be quite dangerous.  He has seen what it can do to people.  Whoever said he was a good or even merciful person all the time was dead wrong.  Picturing Dr. Dollmacher getting tremors from kryptonite exposure fills him with dangerously sadistic pleasure.

In the green glow, her body isn’t an unpleasant spectacle if he will be honest.  Nothing can compare to Chloe’s, even Lois’ bodies, but Dr. Dollmacher isn’t an unattractive woman.  Chloe is no supermodel, but Clark is unashamedly monogamous.  Lois was his most recent significant other, but he only ever saw her body once and it was a fleeting and uncomfortable moment. 

He’s never even used his x-ray vision to peek through her clothes. 

So, the only person whose body he can compare Dr. Dollmacher’s body to is Chloe’s.

Dr. Dollmacher isn’t a curvaceous woman, but her stomach is perfectly flat.  Clark doesn’t know his breasts sizes, but they are larger than Chloe’s.  They might even be of a similar size to Lois’ or Tess’ breasts.  Her raven hair falls around her shoulders in loose waves with a dull streak of gray framing her face.  He could never make out the exact color of her eyes, but they are a pale shade. 

If anything, for a woman in her forties, the years seem kind to her. 

She straddles him now.  He’s deep inside her.  She smacks him in the face with a lump of kryptonite every time he dares look into her eyes.  Her moans fill his ears as she arches her back. 

There was a time when he would hold back as best he can, to prolong the experience.  Now he just wants it to end as quickly as possible.

Finally, he climaxes and Dr. Dollmacher lets out an earsplitting shriek.  Clark counts the minutes as the woman comes down from her high.

Eventually, she rises to her feet and starts putting her clothes back on, completely unabashed of her nakedness.

“Have you made a breakthrough in whatever it is that you’re trying to accomplish?” asks Clark.  His voice sounds like sandpaper in his own ears.  He can’t remember the last time he had a proper meal.  His meals have been limited to irregular servings of bland scrambled eggs—seriously if he’s only going to be fed three eggs at a time, why can’t they be salted or peppered?—a couple of slices of bread, and a glass of water.

He’s so hungry; he could eat a herd of zebras.  He could eat all the beef cattle in Smallville. 

“None of your concern, alien,” Dr. Dollmacher replies.

Clark studies the woman briefly.  It’s been so long since he has seen the sun; his powers are dull.  Still, he tries to examine her with his x-ray vision.  His vision is blurry, almost as if it were nearsightedness or astigmatism.  He focuses his vision as best he can on her womb and uterus.  She’s not pregnant, that much is clear.  Clark couldn’t bear the thoughts of having a child with this woman.   But something else catches his attention if he remembers his biology correctly. 

“You’re infertile,” he sums up.  His tone is thoughtful, sympathetic even.  No matter how much this woman has tormented him he wouldn’t wish infertility on any woman.

Dr. Dollmacher freezes. 

“Are you hoping that my sperm will somehow beat your infertility?” he asks, incredulous.  “I’m not going to be your personal breeding stock.”

Dr. Dollmacher’s shoulders rise and fall.  Clark readies himself for whatever comes next.  When nothing happens, his heartbeat quickens.  What is she going to do? 

“I don’t care whether I get pregnant or not,” she insists in a low voice.  “Besides you’re not long for this world anyway.”

Clark blinks several times.  “What do you mean by that?”

Dr. Dollmacher chuckles as she turns to face him.  “You’ve worked on a farm before, haven’t you?  Let’s just say that you’re being ‘put down’.  You’re uncooperative and useless and inhuman.  You have no place in our world.”

The words sting horribly.  “I really don’t care,” he says defiantly.  “You can boil me to death for all I care.”

Dr. Dollmacher scoffs as she heads for the door.  “We just might.”  The door opens and Clark can’t even get close enough to the door.  The door slams shut and just like any other day, the emitters flicker on and off irregularly.

He screams and wails.  He longs for the embrace of anyone he loves.  Oliver’s hug; his mother’s kiss on the cheek; his father squeezing his shoulder; Chloe’s kisses; Lois’ uncanny ability to put a smile on his face even if it’s her own clumsiness; Tess’s sisterly smile that she has more than earned.  Any of it would be a remedy to this agony. 

“MAKE IT STOP!” he screams with all the power his empty lungs can allow.  Then the weirdest thing happens. 

It actually stops.  He pauses for a second.  The emitters are still on.  His cell is still illuminated in the ugliest of greens.  But there is no pain.  Wait a minute, what day is it?  Is it after the day of his graduation? 

He punches the floor.  It actually hurt and there is no dent added to the hundreds of dents all over his cell.  This must be the consequences of not going to the Fortress when he needed to.  He’s literally powerless.

He has to stifle a gleeful laugh.  Is this supposed to be a punishment?  This is the best thing that has ever happened to him!  Of course, he hopes this isn’t permanent, but given this situation…

“Thank you, Jor-El,” he whispers with a silent laugh.  He might even have a chance of escape.  Dr. Dollmacher is bound to come back. 

He’s going to have to pretend to still be effected in the meantime.

“The beast is going home,” he declares softly as an uncontrollable fit of laughter escapes his lips.  They can call it what they want.  Perhaps they think he has truly gone crazy—perhaps he has—they might even think it’s an effect of the pain they are inflicting on him.  No it’s glee, pure unadulterated glee.

And when he gets out, they all will die. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Needless to say, at this point Clark's very faith in humanity and sense of morality have been put to the ultimate test.


	73. Chapter Seventy-Two

Clark never thought he would feel this way, but suddenly he misses the pain that came with the green lights.  Twenty-seven light sessions ago—if his count is right—when the pain stopped he was so overjoyed, he lost his breath with his laughter.  Now he is just bored.  The buzzing is torture enough, but now with every minute that passes, his impatience grows. 

Dr. Dollmacher’s visits have always been irregular.  She thought it would disorient him.  Clark has no idea what the date is, or even what the time is, but he can guess that it’s after graduation day, so his guess would be that it’s June. 

He should be up at the ice castle, commencing the Kryptonian part of his education.  God forbid if Jor-El would be more lenient, Clark could be spending a weekend with his brother and their friends in the Hamptons, or in Hawaii, or in California, or even Crater Lake which would save them travel time.  Of course, they can afford the travel, but even they enjoy a chance to just not have to travel so far in order to have some fun. 

Clark has no reason to believe that Jor-El would let him take as much as a weekend off. 

While pretending to still be in pain, Clark has managed to formulate some sort of plan.  He managed to find the hidden camera in the room.  He had to admit the cleverness of it.  Where there should have been a rivet was actually the dome of a camera.  He could have smashed that camera right then and there.  No, that would have ended his plans before they even began.

He doesn’t know what would happen if he smashed the camera.  Would they think something was wrong?  Would they come in and replace it?  That could also provide him an opportunity to overpower that person and grab whatever he could use as a weapon.  He’s so famished that he’s not even sure if he has the strength to overpower someone.

At the very least, he wishes he had something to cover the camera.  It’s in a ceiling corner with such a vantage point, there’s no blind spot.  He has no clothes.  Apparently it’s not enough to torture him into submission.  They feel the need to _humiliate_ him into submission. 

Clark likes to think that he takes good care of his body, but he has plenty of dignity.  Wistfully, he’s wondered if the people behind the camera are women who use the view as some sort of torture porn.  Have the people watching been enjoying his torment?

He hates them all. 

Even with his small meals, Clark has been exercising as much as he can.  He’s careful so as not to get dehydrated, but he’s been doing plenty of sit-ups and pushups.  The first thing he will have to do when he breaks out is to find some clothes.  He’s so tall; he hopes that he manages to find someone who is of similar height.

Then, he might even raid a mess hall if he can find one.  More than anything, he needs to escape.  How is he going to do that when he has no idea where he is or even what he will face once he’s out the door?  He’s going to need help.  At the moment, he doesn’t care how he has to get the help he needs.  He might very well rip out someone’s teeth if it means getting what he needs. 

If he’s somewhere that requires him to fly out, he’s definitely going to need help.  He can work a sailboat, like the one his family owns, but he never took up piloting lessons.  After he discovered that he could actually fly, it didn’t seem all that important. 

Maybe it’s a skill that he will add to his bucket list when he gets back from training with Jor-El.  You never know when you might need a pilot.

Clark is in the middle of handstand when the green lights flicker on again.  He doesn’t even notice right away, so his reaction is not as immediate as it should have been.  Not in the mood for a hard landing on a floor covered in gouges made by his own fingers, Clark lowers his feet with more ease than he should have.  He hopes that whoever is behind the camera thinks that the reason for his not immediately responding to the pain is because he’s been growing a tolerance for it. 

Tolerance to kryptonite is something that has so far proven to be impossible.  They are radioactive pieces of what was his home—no his _birth_ planet—and even the human body isn’t very tolerant to radioactivity, so why should he be?  Clark never indulged in the science of it.

It fascinated Dr. Swann, who had no reservations about voicing his scientific wonders even during their tutoring sessions. 

Clark soon discovers the reason for this session of green lights.  He hears the door to his cell open.  It’s Dr. Dollmacher…and a couple of big men armed with guns and what look like kryptonite batons.  It’s the latter they are armed with.  The long hours of martial arts training flood Clark’s mind.  Even without powers, this is going to be too easy. 

“Hey, Doc,” he greets, putting on a pained voice.  “What will it be today, vivisection, intercourse, a sample of my skin or blood, or a beating?”  

Dr. Dollmacher stares down at him from under her nose.  “I told you that you weren’t long for this world, beast.”  She turns to the two men behind her.  “Put something on him and get him to operating room.”

Clark thinks for a minute.  Is this why he was given a bucket of water, a bar of soap, and a towel what feels like an hour ago?  His first instinct is to attack as both men advance on him and whack him once or twice with the batons as one of them throws a bundle of clothes at him.  Even though his body stings from the impact of the batons—but not for the reasons they think—he sees this as an opportunity to see exactly where he’s going. 

So he wordlessly puts on the shirt and pants.  They couldn’t even give him a pair of underwear?  He regrets pretending to be in pain from the kryptonite as one of the men whacks him across the ribs to get him to speed up. 

He has to stifle a growl as he allows the men to haul him to his feet.  They then half-drag him out of the room.  As he leaves the room, Clark can’t help but inhale the fresh air, even if it is just a featureless corridor with many other closed doorways.

However, by the slight saltiness of the air, he thinks that he’s somewhere close to an ocean.  Maybe he’s on a coast somewhere.  Perhaps he’s on an island in the middle of nowhere.

As best he can, he pays very close attention to the directions they are going.  He doesn’t know if it’s annoying or ingenious how nondescript the hallways are.  It reminds him of that mockup of the _Titanic_ that he and Oliver toured when they were kids.  Eventually, they pass a balcony and Clark’s head snaps up before he can stop himself.

He takes in as much as he can before he feels the blow to the back of his head.  He sees a hanger large enough to fit a heavy transport plane with four engines.  Wherever he is, it’s somewhere large enough to accommodate a runway and is far enough away from anything that there needs to be long-range aircraft.  

Eventually, they walk through a set of double doors.  They have dragged him into what reminds him of a cross between an execution chamber where they administer lethal injection and modernized version of Dr. Frankenstein’s lab.  There’s medical equipment, beds, and the most striking feature, a large tank of green liquid.  That would have to be kryptonite.  What else could it be?

Once again, Clark feel blessed that he’s human at the moment.  On one of the beds, he sees someone. Brown tussled hair and boyish features, he remembers him from when he was first thrown into his cell.  What was his name?  Ben?  Barry?  Bart…yes!  That was the one! 

“Bart…” Clark begins.

“Shut up, alien,” orders Dr. Dollmacher, appearing around a corner.  “Pretty soon, liquefied green meteor rocks will be pumped into your body.  You’ll melt from the inside out.”

Clark groans.  Even without his powers, that sounds dreadful.  Then, even to his surprise, he starts laughing. 

Dr. Dollmacher frowns.  “Your own death amuses you?”

“No, Doc,” he replies.  “I will not be dying today.”  He’s paid enough attention to know that these idiots think that a bit of kryptonite will be enough to subdue him.  Clark grabs a kryptonite rod from one of the guards and jabs him hard.  Both guards reach for their guns, but Clark is faster even with the speed of a human.  His martial arts beat out their firearms training.  Within seconds, both of them are on the ground, unconscious while Clark has their batons. 

He turns to Dr. Dollmacher.  Clearly stricken, she heads for an alarm.  Thinking quickly, Clark throws one of the batons at her in a clear arc.  It hits her square in the head.  She goes out cold.  He slowly walks towards her until he’s standing over her. 

He can’t have her sounding any alarms.  He can’t have her trying to stop him.  Yet, he can’t kill a woman in cold blood.  This woman has tormented him, raped him, hurt him, and given him a pure embodiment of the bigotry he's bound to face for the rest of his life.  Yet he can't end her.  He’s learned a long time ago, that there may come a time when he might have to take a life, but it should be avoided if he can help it.  Even then, he isn’t sure that he can kill a woman.  He goes over to a cabinet and sifts through everything.  He finds something an anesthesia syringe and takes it out of the package.  He then bends down to Dr. Dollmacher.  

“Nighty night, bitch,” he says sweetly and jabs it into a vein in her arm.  That should buy him some time, but just to be safe, he restrains her on a bed that he assumes was meant for him. 

Finally, he turns to poor Bart.  “Hey, buddy, stay with me.”

Bart moans, his eyes fluttering open.  “I remember you,” he says groggily.  “You have a cheeseburger?”

Clark laughs in spite of everything.  “I’ll tell you what, let’s get you out of here and we’ll both get ourselves some cheeseburgers.”

“It’s a date,” teases Bart.

“Don’t push your luck, buddy,” Clark warns as he grabs the weapons from the unconscious guards.  Either way, they are getting out of here. 

Clark is prepared to take down anyone who gets in their way.   


	74. Chapter Seventy-Three

Oliver sees some that he rarely sees as he watches his girlfriend.  She’s wearing her reading glasses, but they are sitting a little askew upon her face.  She has her cheek propped up on her fist.  Her eyebrows are upturned in a hopeless frown.  Usually she doesn’t let many of her emotions run close to the surface, except maybe with him in private.  It seems special to him that he is one person that she feels comfortable being vulnerable around.

That vulnerability in the context that it’s being shown right now, is making him very nervous.  They managed to get a set of coordinates from Sam Lane.  Many of them were already angry enough with the man that they drew straws to see who would beat it out of him.  Ultimately, Diana used her lasso to…burn the coordinates out of the general, but they sure had fun making him wonder who was going to beat the hell out of him. 

The moment he said that Clark was going to die in ten days, they had to tear Chloe off him.  That girl can pack a mean punch when she is angry enough.  Personally, Oliver wanted to see her release all her anger out on her uncle, but if Diana hadn’t stopped her, Lois would have been without a father.  Oliver was no exception.  It’s going to come back to haunt him, but it was the first time that he actually pulled a gun on someone.  He was so ready to pull a bullet in the general’s head, but Tess risked her life by stepping in front of him. 

He begged her to get out of the way.  He even cocked the gun.  She did not relent.  It’s probably one of the sweetest things anyone ever did for him, if not the bravest.  She walked towards him, taking one step at a time.  The closer she got, the more emotional he got.  Eventually, she got close enough to touch him.  He stood numb as she took the gun from his hand, removed the magazine, disassembled it and tossed all the pieces aside.  She then wrapped him up in a hug as he released all the emotions he hadn’t realized her was holding back.

His brother was gone, he was being condemned to die like some lab rat that outlived its use, and he has been left to deal with Lois Lane’s awful father.

That was three days ago.  Of course, they couldn’t continue to hold the general per without rousing suspicions from all the wrong people.  They released him.  He promised retribution, to which, in a show of defiance that shocked just about everyone, Lois told her father to “shut his fucking pie hole for once in his life.”

The only person out of them that the general actually seemed to fear was Diana.  She told him that if anybody comes after them, _she_ would come after _him_ and he would be physically incapable of ever penetrating a woman again.  It actually made the man wet himself.

It was actually a pretty entertaining moment.  That entertainment quickly evaporated once Diana told them that they should rest.  Oliver couldn’t rest!  He needed to save his brother!  Every minute they wasted was another minute closer to Clark’s death!  Still, he has learned a long time ago not to disobey his mentor.

So they ordered large pizzas and camped out in the Queens’ loft.  They tried their best to distract themselves from the dire situation, and Oliver thinks it almost worked.  They picked a comedy to watch that soon had them all laughing.  Tess actually choked on a piece of pizza from laughing too hard.  It had her coughing really bad, but once everyone realized she was okay, they ended up laughing over that as well. 

One by one, they all went to sleep and eventually Oliver was the only one left awake. Sitting in that loft, all he could think about were some of his favorite memories shared with Clark in that room. 

Oliver outgrew a number of things as he grew, but his little brother is something he never outgrew.  Even when they didn’t get along, they loved each other.  Even during prolonged periods when they found themselves with their own friends, eventually they would find themselves sharing sodas and just hanging out with each other. 

Oliver lost his parents.  He is not going to lose his brother too.  At least, that’s all he could think about as sleep finally took over. 

Once everyone got up the next day, they immediately got busy.  Since they didn’t even know what they were getting into yet, they decided to wait until they got a look at what they were dealing with.  While Lucifer, who came by, made them breakfast, Chloe and Tess got busy.  They set up their laptops on the dining room table.  Combining their skills, they hacked into a satellite that actually picked up whatever was at the coordinates that they forced out of the general.  What they found made them both groan. 

“What’s wrong?” asks Oliver, peering over their shoulders at their laptops. 

Then he sees what they are looking at and he too groans.  The complex seems to be set up like a medieval keep.  It’s an aerial view, so it’s a little difficult to tell how high the walls are, but he can assume they are very high.  Four outer walls surround a concrete tower.  In between each wall are tanks, troops, and small facilities housing God-knows-what.  In fact, between the two outermost walls is an airstrip.  The feed is not very old; there is, or at least there was, a long range C-130 transport plane.

Each wall is topped with a gun nest placed not very far from each other.  There are probably even more guns at a lower, more personal level, making the task of trying to travel between each wall similar to storming no man’s land. 

Chloe presses a few keys and next thing that is shown is an X-ray of the complex.  From what it looks like, there are even subterranean levels to the complex, not to mention a series of dots all over the place. 

“Are those…?” asks Chloe, her voice trailing off.

“Landmines,” Oliver finishes.  “Damn, was this place one of Adolf Hitler’s personal residences?”

“As far as I know, Hitler had no compounds in the Pacific,” replies Tess.  “But surely a place like this wouldn’t be able to hold Clark, unless…”

“Unless they have kryptonite.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

Oliver glances down at Chloe.  “Why is that?”

“I keep thinking about what might have happened to Clark since it’s after our graduation and he hasn’t left for his training,” explains Chloe.  “And no, I don’t think his biological father would have killed him; he’s not _that_ harsh.  But I do think that he must have done something.”

Oliver thinks about that for a moment.  While he does, Lucifer comes out. 

“I have eggs, bacon, sausage, and toast if anyone is hungry,” he announces, twirling a spatula playfully.  Oliver doesn’t mind the devil commandeering his kitchen, but the least he can do is not play with kitchen tools.  What would the world think—what would religious groups think—if they all knew that the devil himself was, for the most part, a playful single father who many women seem carnally interested in?  Even Tess and Chloe can’t seem to suppress the urge to give flirty smiles. 

The world must be coming to an end if Tess is playing with a lock of her hair.

“Alright, let’s go feed ourselves,” Oliver concedes.

Together, they all get up and file into the kitchen.  Oliver’s stomach growls as he does indeed find all of what Lucifer said there would be.  He also suspects that he is going to need to visit the supermarket sooner than he would have liked.  He usually gets his eggs from Martha Kent, but while he’s sure she wouldn’t mind, he doesn’t want to have to visit her for new batch of eggs twice in as many days. 

He loads himself a plate of eggs, sausage, and toast.  He also grabs the orange juice before anyone else does.  Not very gentlemanly of him, and would likely earn him a disapproving scowl from his mother if she were here, but he’s not overly concerned with that at the moment.  Chloe, unsurprisingly, pours herself a cup of coffee in a mug that says “I ‘heart’ journalists.”

Oliver can’t suppress his smile.  It’s Clark’s favorite mug and he’s too unashamed of it to be teased about it.  It’s almost sad that Chloe would be drinking from that mug.  Oliver loves his brother and misses him horribly, but Chloe was the first girl who stole his heart.    

Lois, who hasn’t even woken up yet, he can’t tell if she has stolen Clark’s heart.  From Oliver’s perspective, his brother has come to view Lois Lane as a friend, maybe even convinced himself he’s in love with her, but remains confused about her.  Who wouldn’t be when both girlfriends happen to cousins?  The fact that she had been reluctantly spying on him only exacerbates the fact. 

Once everyone has a plate of food, they get back to work.  Tess and Chloe return to their computers, eating as they work. 

“So how are we going to get on this island and save my brother?” asks Oliver as he takes a seat near them

Tess and Chloe shoot a scowl up at him.  “I’m sure we can get there, but how do you expect to get _out_?” questions Tess.  “This place looks scary enough from this satellite feed, but we have no idea what is there and there could an ambush waiting for us.”

“We have Wonder Woman,” Oliver reminds her between bites of toast.  “She can take that whole compound with her eyes closed.  Where is she anyway?”

“She is watching over my daughters,” replies Lucifer. 

Oliver whips his head around and faces the fallen angel.  “With everything going on, Aunt Di is the one stuck with babysitting duty?”

Lucifer raises an eyebrow and Oliver feels a chill go down his spine.  “She volunteered.  Your beloved mentor thought that you would think better without her in the room.  Was she wrong?”

Oliver swallows hard.  It is true that Diana has often told him that he doesn’t need her help.  She _is_ a big help, but when he thinks of it, recently when she has been around, all he has wanted to do is ask her for a hug.  She does give great hugs if says so himself.  “Maybe not,” he confesses.

Rather than offer some sort of smug look, which the man seems to do best, Lucifer simply nods his approval.  “Now why don’t focus on how you can help your brother.  You’re not a hacker, but you are clever.  Obviously you cannot storm the place, so think.  What else could you do?”

Oliver thinks about that for a minute.  He looks back at the monitors and regards the complex thoughtfully.  “Chloe?”

“Yeah?”

“Is it possible for you to hack into any security feeds in that facility?”

Chloe hesitates which cannot be a good sign.  “Tess and I only have laptops, so we can try, but these aren’t supercomputers.”

“Well then someday we’re going to have to change that.”  She might not think she has the makings of a superhero, but give her some powerful computers and perhaps a tower she could be a force to be reckoned with.  Oliver knows that Clark has unwavering faith in her.  Oliver thinks that he is starting to as well.  She could be Big Sister, or maybe a different title?

Amidst his thoughts, Tess and Chloe work frantically, their fingers working quickly and the only sound in the room besides chewing is the clacking of keys.  As lovely as the hands of both women might be, the sound of Clark’s piano is decidedly more relaxing.

Oliver doesn’t know what to make of what’s happening on both their screens.  He doesn’t know very much about computer language.  Clark knows more about computers than he does.  He might be able to give him a gist of what Chloe and Tess are doing in dummy language.  Oliver’s hacking skills seem to be limited to wire transfers.  There are lot of shady rich people that have been involved with his family and many more with ill-gotten money. 

Call him a modern day Robin Hood, but he feels obligated to rid those people of that money, show them what it’s like to lose something.  He already has a list a mile long of charities that he could send that money to.  Clark and Diana might disapprove, but he’s not going to wait for anyone’s permission to mess with a few crooked businesspeople. 

“Got it!” Tess and Chloe shout together, so suddenly that Oliver spits out a sip of orange juice, followed by a cough.  When catches his breath, he looks at them. 

“You have a feed?” he asks. 

“It’s glitchy, but we can pretty much look through any feed we want,” replies Tess.

Oliver moves a little closer and peers into both their screens.  “Huh, looks like there’s some sort of emergency going on,” he observes, noticing the shots of men running back and forth and what unmistakably an alarm blaring.  “Okay, Bluesy, where are you?”

Together, they all search in vain through all the feeds.  Either Clark is being held someplace where there is no feed, or best case scenario, he has escaped and is doing his best to avoid the cameras.  If he has escaped, shouldn’t he be flying in soon?

“There!” Chloe points to an image on Tess’ screen. 

Oliver sees it too.  “Clark,” he breathes, letting out a sigh of relief.  Then he frowns.

“Oh, my God, he looks horrible,” moans Chloe.  Indeed he does.  His face is sallow; as if he hasn’t had a proper meal in all the time he has been missing.  There’s blood on him.  Oliver doesn’t see any visible wounds.  Grimly, he thinks that that blood might not be his own. 

“Why does he have a gun?” asks Tess.  “I wouldn’t think he’d need one.”

“And who is that kid with him?” adds Chloe, indicating the shorter guy Clark is helping along. 

“I don’t know, but whatever has happened they need help,” says Oliver.  “Is there any chance we can send a message to him?  If there is a plane there, we can make sure he catches it before it leaves.”

Tess and Chloe smile up at him.  “If we can hack into a high military security feed, I think we can manage to send Clark a message as well,” says Tess confidently.

Oliver smiles and leans over to plant a kiss on her cheek.  “Happy to hear it.”  His eyes return to the screens.  “Hang in there, Bluesy.”


	75. Chapter Seventy-Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. Enjoy. And if I don't post any more chapters before then, may I just wish everyone a Happy Christmas! Or a belated Happy Hanukkah.

Clark stares helplessly at the vast expanse before him.  He managed to half-carry, half-drag poor Bart up to the nearest vantage point they could find, which ended up being the highest tower of the compound. 

He’s on an island, of that much he is certain.  Despite the predicament he and his new friend are in, it seems like a lovely place.  Steeply sloped mountains with flushes of green all around like giant tank traps, or real-life versions of Mount Olympus from Disney’s _Hercules_ stand erect all around.  They are in a large valley, probably cultivated to make it flat enough to accommodate the runway to the southeast.  Where there are no mountains, dense jungle blankets the landscape shrouded in a steady fog.

Clark remembers studying astronomy with Dr. Swann.  Vacations when he would go sailing with his family, he remembers learning some basic knowledge regarding navigation, telling longitude and latitude by the position of the sun and the angle of his shadow.  He’s definitely somewhere in the tropical Pacific. 

He moves onto the compound.  The place reminds him of a modern-day fortress.  It even has an outer wall set with high watchtowers each with machine gun pods as well as a few antiaircraft guns.  He doesn’t see the aircraft he saw earlier, so he guesses that the hanger is _underground_.  That must explain the fact that the end of the runway disappears into its side of the fortress.  It must take an exceptionally skilled pilot to fly in and out of this place.  Sure, it’s probably dragged in and out of the hanger by a one of those vehicles from the airport that Clark can’t remember the name of.

Within the walls, military vehicles cover the place.  There are no visible flags, so either these people are all privately hired mercenaries, or they are all military personnel from a group of countries and for the sake of unity, they are all wearing the same colors.  There’s even an obstacle course to one side of the compound. 

“Why would they need an obstacle course when there’s a jungle on their doorstep?” muffles Bart, his mouth full of someone’s turkey sandwich.  The first thing they did was look for a break room, or a mess hall of some kind.  Eventually, they did, knocking out a few people along the way, and raided the kitchens.  Bart has a much bigger appetite and he filled a large bag with as much food as he could. 

Clark seems to be completely human, so he could only eat so much.  It had been so long since he had a proper meal, eating to his heart’s content, and naturally he had diarrhea a few minutes ago.  He’s glad he found a bathroom. 

Bart has an easy sense of humor, but at least he didn’t make fun of Clark.  If anything, the kid felt bad for him.

He found a stairway and the two of them went all the way up it. 

“Yeah, that doesn’t seem to make sense,” agrees Clark.  “Even I think that that’s a waste of money.”

Bart stares up at him.  “Just how rich are you, anyway?”

Clark sighs.  He doesn’t really appreciate that question.  His parents raised him and Oliver to be modest about their wealth.  Still, he can answer that question without bragging.  “My brother was chosen as an escort to a debutante ball and my family has properties in the Hampton and Oahu.  We also own an island in the Caribbean.”  A vacation to either of those places sounds wonderful right now. 

“Wow,” marvels Bart.  “You’ll have to take me to one of those places sometime.”

Clark laughs a little.  “Let’s get out of here alive first.  How much more do you have to eat to in order to go as fast as you can?”

Bart rolls his eyes.  “Pushy much, dude?”

“I thought we agreed not to call me ‘dude’,” Clark reminds him darkly. 

Bart scowls and thrusts the half-eaten turkey sandwich in his hand.  He them zooms away in a blur of red lightning.  He returns a couple of seconds later with a satisfied grin on his face. 

“What did you just do?” asks Clark.

“Oh, I might have busted all the alarm systems I could find,” replies Bart, taking the sandwich back.

Clark nods, impressed.  “All in a flash,” he comments.

Bart narrows his eyes.  “Hey, ‘Flash’, I like it!”

“Then, way to go, Flash.”  He then turns his attention back to the compound.  “It’s amazing that we haven’t raised any alarms yet to begin with.  And eventually everyone we’ve knocked out will wake up again.”

“And then it’ll be two against at least a hundred if not more,” adds Bart.  “I ate a lot of food, but it’ll only be so long before I get hungry again.  I only have a handful of bursts left in me.  You’re a hell of a fighter, so that might help.”

Clark allows himself a smile at the compliment.  He knows how to have the upper hand when everyone has guns and all he has are his hands.  He and Oliver hate guns.  Right now, he’s armed with an M4 carbine, a wicked looking knife, a couple of batons, and a handgun.  Even without super-strength, he is still plenty strong enough to carry all of that weight.  “Thanks, but I’m not bulletproof.”

Bart’s face turns serious which so far seems very unlike his typical demeanor.  “Are we going to have to kill a few people?”

“Leave that to me,” instructs Clark.  “Now, let’s figure out how to work our way towards that hanger.”  Taking off at a brisk pace, the two of them head back down the stairs.  Looking out at the compound, the place just looked like a basic, if not slightly medieval, military installation.  Someone flying overhead would never suspect it of being more of a dissection lab. 

With grim realization, Clark understands the at least someone in the American government was complicit with sanctioning a super-soldier program, trying to make unwilling weapons out of him and Bart.  It’s people like them who give Jor-El a good reason to express disdain towards humans.  If his parents were alive today, they would have buried Sam Lane alive with lawsuits.  Then again, they might not have for the sake of keeping Clark’s secret, but they definitely would have had some sort of retribution. 

It’s a thought that always scared him and Oliver, but sometimes they suspected their parents of double-dealing under the table.  They might have arranged to have Sam Lane as well as a number of people involved with him, decommissioned and dishonorably discharged. 

Sam Lane and dishonorably discharged sound so great together in Clark’s head.  He would probably have to keep Oliver, Diana, and perhaps most of all, Chloe far enough away from the man to keep them from doing anything…lethal to him.   

Turning away from the view, Clark leads the way back down the stairs.  Bart seems to have regained some of his strength, so he doesn’t to be helped along.  Still, Clark keeps checking over his shoulder to make sure that he’s still there.  Considering all that was done to him, he cannot fathom what was done to poor Bart. 

Bart is obviously very fast in just about everything.  He can run and heal at alarming speeds.  It hurts his pride just thinking about it, but Clark thinks that his new friend might actually be faster than him.  Given all that speed, he hopes that they can get out of here before Bart gets hungry again.  All that speed, he probably has to eat all the time.

They reach the bottom of the stairwell and enter the hallway again.  When they came up here, they didn’t have to worry about anyone down this particular hallway.  For the most part, they only really had to deal with ten or twelve people, not including the doctors and guards Clark dealt with in that operating room.

He could have killed Dr. Dollmacher.  He hates that woman like he has never hated anyone in his whole life.  Didn’t she forfeit her right to live the first time that she cut into him just so she could “get a closer look at how he differentiates from humans”?  When she wakes up, she will undoubtedly come after him with all that she has. 

He will deal with it when the time comes.  Right now, he just wants to get out of here. 

He and Bart take off at a brisk pace.  Even without powers, Clark is still pretty athletic.  Sometimes, he would wear the blue kryptonite bracelet he would wear during martial arts lessons and just go for a jog.  He wasn’t armed to the teeth during those sessions.  Also, he is quite worried that if they start to run, Bart will break into a flash and they are trying to conserve his stamina. 

They pass a security camera.  Clark eyes it for a minute and then raises his rifle, aiming at it. 

“Wait a minute!” protests Bart in hushed shout.  “They might hear you.”

Clark turns towards the smaller guy with a frown.  “Or they might see us and rain hell down upon us.”

“Which is why it’s a good idea for you to save your bullets, Queen,” Bart fires back.  “I didn’t tell you before, I found the security room and knocked out everyone in the room and then barricaded the door so that no one could get in.”

“How did you get out?”

“I-uh…” Bart’s eyes wander for a minute.  “I phased through.  If I vibrate fast enough, I can literally walk through a wall.”

Clark raises his eyebrows.  “That’s cool!”   

Bart nods, showing a sign of bashfulness for the first time since the two of them got acquainted.  “It’s also pretty difficult.  Let’s hope I don’t have to do it again.”

Clark nods and the two of them resume their path down the hallway.

This place is like a maze.  The hallways don’t end in weird dead ends like a real maze, but there are so many closed, unmarked doors save for a letter and a number and there is no way of telling what is beyond them.  They could lead into a room or another hallway.

Eventually, Clark hears voices and halts, holding out his arm so that Bart comes to a stop as well.

“Queen, what’s…”

“Shush!” Clark hisses.  His eyes wander towards a balcony that they have come across.  Putting his finger to his lips, the two of them crouch down and creep towards the edge.

“…I don’t care what it takes, just find them!” shouts a very irritated-sounding man.   

Clark doesn’t recognize the voice, neither is he too interested in finding out the man’s name. 

“Do you think it would help if we didn’t stick out so much?” whispers Bart.  “We could find some uniforms to put on.”

Clark rounds on him.  “What is this, _Star Wars_?” he demands, again in a whisper.  “Everyone here probably knows when someone doesn’t belong, so…”

“So let’s make sure no one gets a good look at our faces!” finishes Bart.  “Now, are we going to just sit here and argue, or are we going to get out of here?”

Clark scowls at him.  If anything, he’s probably just worried about finding someone as tall as him.  What’s the point, if he can’t even find a uniform that fits him?  He hears footsteps approaching.  “Hide,” he whispers. 

Wasting no time, Bart gets up and the two of them head into the first doorway they find, closing the door quietly behind them.  Clark lets out a sigh of relief, but then…

“Queen?” says Bart’s worried voice. 

Clark turns around and surely enough, he is in a big computer room and three big soldiers around.  He then sees one of them reach for his sidearm.  He reacts quickly. 

He grabs the wicked-looking knife from his belt and flings it expertly towards the man reaching for his handgun.  There is a second or two where the knife is spinning through the air before it collides with its target. 

Everyone in the room stops dead in their tracks as all eyes turn to the knife sticking out of the largest man’s chest.  The man looks down at the knife and back up again before toppling to the ground. 

Clark gulps down his initial shock and advances on his remaining opponents.  Grabbing his two batons, he flings one at the man to the left, and the other to the man on the right.  Both batons collide with their heads and are left temporarily stunned.  Taking advantage of the opening, Clark lunges for the closest man.  Closing his eyes, he tries in vain to block out the sickening squish as he retrieves a fallen baton and viciously whacks it across the man’s head.  In the scuffle, the last man manages to run towards the doorway.  Reacting quickly, Clark yanks the knife from the first man’s chest and flings it at him. 

This time, the knife lands in the back of this man’s head. 

Their first wave of opponents down, Clark straightens up and observes the mess he has made.  Pools of blood are steadily growing around the first and third men’s bodies.  He bends down and puts his finger to the second man’s wrist, checking for a pulse.

There is none.  This man looks about as tall as him and there are no bloodstains on the uniform.  Fighting back the bile in the back of his throat, Clark sheds his weapons, followed by his shirt and pants, and then the soldier’s uniform.  Then then puts on the uniform.  It’s a little tight around the shoulders, but it fits.  

Finally, he turns his eyes towards Bart.  Bart looks back at him and Clark sees a mixture of horror and awe. 

“We need to go,” Clark says finally, heading towards the door to make sure the coast is clear. 

“Wait, Queen!”

“What?” he asks sharply. 

“The computers; look,” says Bart. 

Clark turns around and faces the computers.  What he sees makes him frown.  There is a single caption on one of them.

**Clark Queen, are there? – C.S. & T.M. & O.Q.**

“C.S., T.M., O.Q…” Clark repeats, his voice trailing off.  His eyes narrow.  “Chloe, Tess, Ollie!” He rushes to the computer and starts clacking away frantically. 

**This is Clark.  It’s so great to hear from you! – C.Q.**

A few seconds pass, where Clark and now Bart are eagerly waiting for a reply.

**:D :D :D  Clark, there’s a plane getting ready to leave in twenty minutes.  Be on it.  We have control of the compound’s security system.  We will try to create the quickest path for you without anyone in your way.  – C.S.**

**O.Q. says, “Don’t you dare get killed, Bluesy!” – T.M.**

**I second that. – C.S.**

**I third, L.L. fourth – T.M.**

Clark frowns.  “L.L.?” he repeats, staring blankly at the screen.  Does she mean…?  He scowls.  Lois.  The part of her that still considers her a friend suspects that she might be trying to redeem herself.  The more cynical part worries that there’s an angle. 

“Queen, we have to go!” urges Bart. 

Clark nods silently and they leave to room and the dead men behind as they resume their trek.  As they continue their brisk pace, a door buzzes and swings open, revealing a narrow corridor.  Remembering Chloe’s words, he and Bart go through the doorway and shut the door behind them.  The lock reengages.  It does so in a nick of time too.  They hear footsteps on the other side of that door. 

Clark has no idea where they are, but as he passes camera after camera, he assumes that Chloe and Tess are staring right through them, guiding him and Bart.  That’s all he needs.

Several more corridors and passageways, Clark actually believes he is going through a maze.  If Chloe said the plane was leaving in twenty minutes, how long would it have taken to take a direct path to the airstrip?  Clark’s watch was smashed not long after his capture, so he has no idea how long he and Bart have been rushing through the compound. 

He liked that watch.  He had an assortment of watches that he wore for different occasions, but that particular watch was a gift from his mother.  It wasn’t his fanciest, or his favorite, but it had more sentimental value than most of his watches.  At least it wasn’t the watch that Chloe gave him.

Then he would have been really pissed.

Eventually, the sound of airport activity grows louder.  Clark is hoping there isn’t much opposition, but will there be?  Chloe said that she and Tess have complete control of the security system—which he finds really impressive considering that they are both probably armed with just their laptops—so he tells himself that they are misleading any possible assailants. 

Or they could all be gathering around the airplane, being clever enough to deduce Clark’s desire to escape.

Eventually, they make it to an opening and there, indeed is the airplane readying for departure.  Quickly, Clark and Bart hide behind a truck.  There are only a handful of people, none of whom look like they are expecting any unwanted company.  Straining to pick up any snippets of conversation with his humanlike hearing, Clark catches a few things.  Based on what he hears, it sounds like everyone thinks that he and Bart have escaped into the jungle.  They could use that to their advantage. 

Bart gets up, but Clark quickly yanks him back down.  “Not yet!” he hisses.

“Queen, the plane is getting ready to leave!” Bart reminds him. 

“If we get up now, those guys will see us and we can’t get rid of them without making noise,” Clark says.  He peeks towards the men.  “They are getting onto the plane now.  Wait, wait…now!”

Together the two of them rise from their hiding places and sprint towards the plane.  They face no opposition and they manage to hurry onto the plane just before the ramp lifts.  They are surrounded by cargo, so they manage to get on without being seen.  Then they find a truck and then sneak into the back of it.

“We’re going to have to be very quiet,” says Clark.  “I have no idea where this plane is going, but…”

“At least it’s away from here,” finishes Bart.  He stifles a laugh. 

“Save that, Bart,” Clark cautions.  He glances in the direction of the front of the plane.  “This isn’t over yet.”  What will they face when they get to wherever this plane is going?  What will those he cares about think of him when they learn that he had to kill a few people?


	76. Chapter Seventy-Five

Oliver stares at the screens, blinking several times.  He doesn’t need to look around to tell that everyone else is doing something similar.  The feed is hazy and it blacks out every few seconds, but what they did catch was horrifying. 

Clark killed those guards.  He _killed_ them.  Sure, it looked like he had no other option, or it might have been a split-second, adrenaline-fueled decision, but still Oliver can’t wrap his head around it.  During their shared youth, in their martial arts classes, as well as lessons spent with Diana, they were taught not to kill unless absolutely necessary. For some dark reason, Oliver always thought that _he_ would be the one who crossed that line.  Perhaps without realizing it, he hoped that his little brother would never have to cross that line.

If either of them was to be “golden boy” or “boy scout” it would have been Clark.  Clark is no boy scout.  He has always had a bit of a moral compass, but he is definitely no boy scout.  What would their parents think? 

Somehow, he can just picture their mother crying inconsolably if she had seen this.  What would the Kents, people who have been second parents to them, think?  What would Diana think?  What words would their beloved mentor and _de facto_ mother figure have to say about him killing a few people? 

“Is he going to hell?” Oliver hears himself ask.

“I honestly don’t know if Hell works the same way in this dimension as it does in mine,” replies Lucifer.  “The video is rather crude, but it was enough for me to see his eyes.  There was no malicious intent in those killings.  It was righteous anger, but knowing humans, that’s not going to save him from the guilt.”

“What _was_ Hell like where you come from?” asks Oliver.  As far as he can tell, he’s the only one in the room who accepts that Lucifer is the devil himself.”

“That’s a very broad question, but the simplest answer I can give you is that people tend to relive their worst mistakes over and over again,” replies Lucifer.  “It’s how they punish themselves.  I was more of a…warden.”

“Can we focus?” asks Chloe, unsteadily.  “You’re going to have to elaborate on that whole ‘devil’ thing to me sometime, Mr. Morningstar.”

“Oh, I’d love to, but it’ll have to be off the record of course,” Lucifer adds with a smirk.

Chloe grumbles as she stares back at the screen.  “There, the plane is leaving.”

Oliver leans in closer.  “Do either of you know where it’s heading?”

“Based on its direction, the farthest it’d be able to go is Oahu,” replies Tess, pointing to her screen.  Oliver doesn’t know exactly what is happening on her screen, but it looks like she is triangulating the plane’s possible destinations.

“Well, then I sure hope that that is where they are going.”  Oliver pulls out his cellphone.  “I have to make a call.”

“Who could you possibly be calling right now?” growls Chloe, slamming her fists down on the table, making their box of donuts bounce a little. 

Unperturbed, Oliver looks up from the number he is dialing.  “I have an old friend who owns a house near Honolulu.  He’s usually there this time of year and if I can reach him, maybe he can find Clark and fly him back to the mainland quietly.”

“But how will Clark know?” adds Tess, crossing her arms. 

Oliver scoffs.  “Clark has a great memory; he would know that there are people in Hawaii that he can trust.” He presses the call button and puts the phone up to his ear, waiting for Lex to pick up.  If Lex is an ally, this will be his chance to prove it.   

***

“Is it always this boring on a plane?” whispers Bart. 

How does Clark answer that?  His _conventional_ flight history consists of private jets with leather seats and couches that could unfold into beds, a TV set with a DVD player, a game console, and flight service.  So perhaps the better question would be how does he answer that _modestly_?

“I’m used to private travel,” he eventually answers in an equally hushed tone.  “We usually found things to pass the time with.  But in case you forgot, we are stowaways.  There are accommodations for stowaways.  What we need to be concerned about is figuring out how we’re going to get out of here once this plane lands.”

“And we don’t even know _where this plane is going_!” Bart adds in a hushed growl.  “How long have we been in the air anyway?”

Clark groans.  He lost his watch when he was captured.  Plus without access to the outside, he can’t estimate the time by more ancient means.  “I have no idea okay?”

Truth is he too is growing more tired of being in the back of this truck by the minute.  In an effort to stay out of sight, they have not moved.  For Clark it feels like being in solitary all over again.  Not that he disregards Bart’s company, but just the feeling of everything being close together.  It’s possible that he is developing a fear of small spaces.

This small space is no exception.  Two benches across from each other that are about as comfortable as the bleachers at Smallville High’s football field, a weapons slot full of high-powered rifles and grenades, boxes that are probably full of high explosives, and it’s all just so close together.  Could it simply be that fact that Clark is a very tall person? 

This isn’t a vehicle built for smaller people, but since losing his abilities, the one thing that has never crossed his mind is the fact that he can no longer fly.  He loves to fly.  He loves knowing that for a time, he could just close his eyes and fall from a high cliff, enjoying the sense of a free fall before shooting up into the air and gliding in the clouds.

Being stuck in this vehicle, knowing that he has to wait until it lands wherever before he can take another step towards his escape to freedom, feels like a personification of how small his world can be without his abilities.  He might have been happy when he could no longer feel the effects of kryptonite, but now he’s starting to see just how much this is truly a punishment. 

Jor-El is one strict artificial intelligence.  He can punish Clark simply by taking his powers away.  Is it permanent?  Is there no way for him to get his powers back?  Can he not earn his powers back through good deeds?  Will he have to remain a human for the rest of his life?

Clark has learned through many hard lessons not to be dependent on his powers, only using them when necessary, so he’s not useless without them.  They just make life a little easier, if not more exciting. 

If he is going to protect people, he’s going to have to use more conventional methods.  He will have to use his car to get to and from places.  His body isn’t going to save someone he cares about from a spray of bullets without killing him instead.  If he needs to fly somewhere, he will have to rely on planes.  Not that it’s too expensive, but it’s just more time wasted.  Actually, it could encourage him to be more interactive.  If the power goes out and he wants toast, he will have to rely on the gas stove.  When it gets cold, his warmth will depend on him dressing accordingly.  If someone is far away and he wants to hear them, he will have to get within their earshot.  If someone he loves is injured, he will have to trust the professionals to determine how extensive the damage is.  His friends and family won’t be able to rely on him to give them a quick x-ray to make sure there isn’t anything in their body that shouldn’t be there.  If there is a house fire, he won’t be able to blow it out.  That one was a pretty recent discovery too! 

He can learn to cope with being human, can’t he?  He will no longer have to complain about having to hide who he is, because there will be nothing to hide.  Being normal is something that he never longed for.  Being different is a blessing that he has always cherished.  His only resentment is that he couldn’t share that secret with the world and be safe. 

Becoming a captive of a man who wanted to exploit his abilities just proves that.  He hates Sam Lane.  He hates that that man allowed, even _sanctioned_ for this to happen.  He hates that he threatened Chloe.  He hate that he had to have his own daughter play spy for him. 

Lois Lane might have been a friend to him at one point, but right now Clark can’t even think of her without also thinking of her father.  Whatever happens from here on, she is going to have to earn his friendship back.  Before that even, there is going to have to be an extended period of them not seeing each other.  Perhaps, in his heart, he has forgiven her for her role in all of this.  She was a victim too, wasn’t she?  But right now all he can think about is that she is Sam Lane’s daughter.  That’s not all she is, but that is all that it reverberating through Clark’s mind. 

Through his thoughts, he begins to feel his ears pop.  “Bart?”

“What’s up?” Bart whispers. 

“The plane is descending; I think it’s about to land,” explains Clark.  “But don’t get excited yet.  We still have to get out of here.  Do you think you have another run in you?”

Bart groans.  “Maybe one, but if you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, it won’t last very long.”

Clark smiles awkwardly.  “Can you carry me?”

“Are you asking me to carry you bridal style?” teases Bart.  “Sorry, but I’m more into the opposite sex.”

Clark flashes a wicked grin at his new friend.  “Charming, but I was hoping for more over the shoulder type.”  He’s playing it cool, but just thinking about it has to be one of the most embarrassing things in his life.  In between his thoughts, the plane thuds, signaling that it has touched ground.  He and Bart each grab hold of something to steady themselves.  He counts the minutes as the plane comes to a stop.  Even with his humanlike hearing, his ears pick up movement.  Then he starts to hear the loading ramp lower. 

Bart rises to his feet.  “It’s now or never, buddy.”

“We never speak of this,” Clark warns him. 

“Deal.”  Before Clark’s brain can register all that has happened, he feels his body hauled over a pair of smaller shoulders before feeling like the wind is pressing down on him with the weight of a semitrailer.  Then, just as quickly, it’s over.  As his eyes swim back into focus, he sees that they are in a…bathroom.

“Where are we?” he asks. 

“Well, we were at Wheeler Army Airfield,” drawls Bart.  “Now we are at Daniel K. Inouye Airport.”  So they are in Hawaii.  That’s great!  But it also means that they still have a ways to go.

Clark looks at Bart and then at himself.  Bart is still in his plain grey buttoned shirt and pants, while Clark is still dressed in that uniform he stole off that dead soldier.  On top of that, he sees dried blood on himself.  “We stick out like sore thumbs; I have no money for clothes; you have no more runs left in you…do you?”

Bart shuffles his feet.  “If I run too long, I’ll get nosebleeds, after that it’s not much time before I pass out.”

Clark places his hands on his friend’s shoulders.  “I believe in you, buddy.  Just one more, I promise.  There has to be a clothing store in this airport.”

Bart scowls up at him.  “You owe me, Queen.” Then he zooms off. 

Clark counts five seconds before he returns again with an armful of clothes.  He sees Bart’s nose and indeed there is a bit of blood. 

“I would have gotten here sooner if it wasn’t for the security tags on half of these clothes,” explains Bart as he drops the clothes and heads over to sink to wash his face off. 

Clark inspects the clothes.  They will still stick out like sore thumbs, but this time they will look like a couple of tourists who spent too much money at the gift shop.  At least they won’t stink too badly.  He was so worried that it would slow them down, giving the people at the compound time to reinforce, but Bart wanted a shower.  So, the first thing they did when they broke free from that…operating room was find a shower.  They ran into someone who was already occupying the room and knocked him out, stealing his toiletries as well.  So they took turns taking a shower while the other stood watch. 

As Clark sheds his filthy clothes and chucking them in the garbage, he has to hand it to Bart.  They are at one of the busiest airports in the country; they wouldn’t have been able to be in this bathroom without unwanted attention, yet Bart managed to find a bathroom that happens to be out of order.

The sinks work, so Clark busied himself with washing off the dried blood from his skin.  Then he put on the new clothes.  Khaki pants, blue Converse shoes, and a hula shirt.  Bart comes out of his stall wearing something similar. 

Neither of them bothering to say a word about the ridiculousness of their outfits, they slip out of the bathroom as quietly as they can, entering the busy airport.  People going back and forth, a female voice over the P.A. announcing arrivals and departures, food booths and shopping centers, and hubs…

Clark notices something very crucial.  They have no plane tickets, nor the money to buy a couple.  He stares at Bart. 

Bart stares back and comprehension seems to dawn on his face.  “No, I can’t do this again.”

“Clark?”

He knows that voice.  He turns around and indeed his eyes fall upon none other than Lex Luthor.  Tall, wearing an appropriately white blazer with matching pants to suit the tropical climate, and balder than the day he was born, Lex stands before them with his hands in his pockets.  Clark has never been unhappier to see anyone.

“Lex,” he addresses.  “What’re you doing here?”  And what happened to his face?  His sunglasses do little to hide the busted lip, the bruises on his cheeks, and what is clearly a black eye.  Clark is so upset with him, he would like to give whoever roughed up the bald billionaire a Carribean cruise ticket, or hug.   

“Honestly?  I was hoping to find you,” explains Lex.  “I have a few contacts in the military and I was able to get an idea of where some of the planes from that island were going.  We’ve all been trying to find you and I thought I’d get a head start on that plane.”

Clark snorts.  “Where was this help all those weeks ago?”

Lex narrows his eyes.  “Look Clark, there’s nothing I can say that will change what happened to you.  It wasn’t supposed to go down like that, but I found out that Sam Lane wasn’t somebody I could trust too late.  But I’m here now and there is a plane waiting to take us back to Kansas.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“You shouldn’t; I’ve extinguished that right, haven’t I?” replies Lex, sounding almost remorseful.  Almost.  “But as far as I can see, you have no money and no allies.  You and your friend can get on that plane with me now, or you stay here until you attract the wrong attention.  After all, those clothes aren’t paid for, are they?” he finished with the slightest hint of a smirk. 

Clark stares at his old friend long and hard.  The man is an enigma and sometimes it seems like he doesn’t even drink his morning coffee without an agenda.  Still, there is no one else around for him to trust.  He thrusts his hand out.  “I trust you, not because I want to get home, but because last I checked, it was your turn to owe me a favor.  Don’t betray that trust again.”

Lex reaches out with his own hand and the former friends shake hands.  “I don’t plan to.”

 _Do we ever?_ Clark wonders.         

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't say how many chapters are left, but this arc is nearing its conclusion.
> 
> Part two is somewhere down the line which will pick up after Clark's training, but once this is finished, if no one minds, I am probably going to take a break from this story.


	77. Chapter Seventy-Six

“So how did you end up with all those bruises on your face?” Clark asks, unable to contain his curiosity anymore.  Two hours ago, they boarded Lex’s plane which would take them to Metropolis.  Clark suggested that they instead go to Star City and then board a less conspicuous plane.  It took some convincing, but eventually Lex agreed.  No doubt, Clark and Bart’s escape from that facility would alert a few people.

Lex has no reason to be in Star City and as far as many are concerned, nor would Clark Queen, even if Star City is as much a home to him as Smallville is.  With any luck, General Sam Lane won’t consider Star City to be one of the first places to search for him.  He will, however, most definitely have all flight traffic coming into Metropolis monitored, or anywhere near Smallville.

Lex finally tears his gaze from the window and meets Clark’s eyes.  The two are sitting across from each other in their recliner chairs which can swivel sideways to face a TV.  Maybe he is a little biased, but Clark prefers the chairs on the Queens’ private business jets.

Lex smirks a little.  “I knew you would probably ask me that question sooner or later,” he says.  “I’m sure even you have thought about roughing up my face a bit as well.”

Clark echoes his smirk.  “The thought has crossed my mind once or twice.”

“I would deserve it.”  Lex sighs.  “But Chloe beat you to it.”

Clark narrows his eyes.  “Chloe, you mean Chloe Sullivan?”

His old friend narrows his eyes.  “How many Chloe’s do you know?  Anyway, that girlfriend of yours…” he shakes his head, looking impressed, “She sure packs a hell of a punch.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Clark corrects him tightly.  “Not anymore.”

“Maybe not, but you two sure do blur the line of friendship a lot.  I can’t imagine how awkward it must have been all this time trying to build a romance with her cousin, Lois.  Doesn’t that upset girl code?”

Clark has nothing to say to that. 

“I, myself, haven’t had much opportunity to get well acquainted with Lois Lane, but I can see the allure that one might have for her,” continues Lex.  “She’s spunky, headstrong, impulsive, fiercely independent, and even a little ditzy sometimes.”

Clark almost says something about that last part, but then stops to think about it for a minute.  Lois has done some pretty silly things in the past.  He remembers it as clear as day when she punched him in the face after finding out that Chloe had been alive all along.  Even if he wasn’t so indestructible at the time, he still thinks she would have hurt herself.  She took one hell of a swing at him!  “Maybe ‘silly’ is the better term.  She’s a little too clever for ‘ditzy’ to be an accurate term.”

Lex considers that.  “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

“Can we discuss the elephant in the room now?”

“Wouldn’t it technically be ‘elephant in the cabin’ since we’re in a plane?”

Clark and Lex twist their necks to point a glare at Bart. 

 _Does that kid ever stop eating?_ Clark wonders as Bart thoroughly indulges himself with the food on the plane.  Bart stops in between bites of peanuts and meets the gazes directed towards him.  “What?” he muffles.  “We’re in plane and planes don’t have ‘rooms’ and…oh, never mind.”

Clark turns his attention back to Lex. 

“Why are helping me?” he asks.  “You didn’t seem too keen on helping me when I was first taken.  Why the change of heart?  Why now?”

“Do you plan on giving me a chance to answer or are you just going to keep firing questions at me?” asks Lex, reasonably.  “I have no way of proving that I was unaware of Sam Lane’s true intentions for you, so you’re just going to have to believe me on that one.  I wanted to get you out of that place for as long as you have been there.  I would have went in and gotten you out myself, but in case you’ve forgotten, I was up against the United State Army.  That, on top of the fact that you are weirdly overpowered, would have made things very difficult even for me.  What would I have said if I filed a lawsuit against General Lane?”

Clark thinks about that for a minute, but nothing comes to mind.

“Think about it, Clark,” Lex continues.  “How would I have made a lawsuit about a kidnapping and leave out certain details about you?  It could very well be a competition as to which of us have higher paid lawyers, but the Army has lawyers too.  How long do you think it would have been before someone discovered a flaw in your very existence?

“I have to applaud your parents for how far they went to make sure that your existence was foolproof, but—and please don’t take offense to this—no one is perfect.”

Clark knows when people are insulting his parents.  Hell, after they died, he spent all of his junior year just having to keep his temper under control as everyone from his peers to the media tried to spin a less than honorable tale about his family.  For Lex to say that even his parents weren’t perfect isn’t insulting in the slightest.  If anything, he is echoing them.  Sometimes, when he overheard his parents reflecting on certain things such as their parenting abilities, they would eventually remind each other that no one is perfect.

He has an astonishing number of abilities—or at least he had—but even he is perfect. 

“There’s no way you would have been able to get me out without making a lot of noise,” he concedes.  “You couldn’t even hire a group of mercenaries?” he adds, though he is only half-joking.

Lex catches the humor and smiles.  “I thought about it, but by that time, I was already telling Oliver and your friends that I knew of your whereabouts.”

“And that led to you getting beaten the hell out of by a girl half both our sizes,” finishes Clark.  He gazes out the window, becoming lost in his thoughts.  “Journalist, hacker, and fighter,” he muses.  The thought of getting his ass handed to him again by Chloe sends blood rushing southward.  He’s grateful that there is a table between him and Lex; otherwise the uncomfortable bulge in his pants would be even more embarrassing. 

“Am I curious though,” Lex says, bringing him out of his thoughts. 

“Hell would freeze over if you stopped being curious,” Clark jokes.  “But what?”

“You could have flown out of that place, but you didn’t, why is that Clark?  And why are you powerless now?”

He tries to breathe evenly as he meets Lex’s eyes.  He wants to trust the man, he really does, but he still has to prove himself.  “That’s a long story and one for another time.  What I’d like to know is how did you find out my secret in the first place?”

Lex Luthor is a complicated man.  Clark has known him a long time, but to this day, he still struggles to fully understand him, to read him.  Lex might be cheerful when really he is quite angry.  He might be trying to build a friendship when really he is simply trying to find out your secrets.  He might engage in sweet-talk when truly he is subtly manipulating you into coming to a business deal that suits him.  Life is a game of chess for him, or a prolonged version of the Fall of Troy.  Lex Luthor will give you a bushel of Trojan horses and try to bait you into moving a piece on the board, only to surprise you with an attack, or even a checkmate.

Clark has grown up playing chess, even having an opportunity to play the game a few times with Lex.  Lex is a skilled opponent, always changing his strategy.  It taught Clark to anticipate what strategies he would use based on only a few key moves.  Eventually, he even managed to beat the man a few times, but Clark still considers Lex to be a better chess player overall.

So now, watching Lex he notices a few things.  He is already sitting up straight, so he can’t use that as a detail.  His face is as calculating as always, but his lips have settled into a somewhat firmer line.  His eyes are similar to how he typically regards a businessperson—respectful, but kept at arm’s length. 

Clark already assumes that his friend is not proud of how he discovered his secret.  “I found out your secret the same day of the fire at the children’s center,” he replies eventually. 

“The same day that Lois found out,” Clark mutters under his breath, feeling his fists clench painfully hard.  “Was it all a setup?”

“I didn’t set that fire if that’s what you’re asking,” says Lex, a bit defensively.  “I know I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a murderer or an arsonist.”

“So it was arson,” deduces Clark.  He hides his smile as Lex realizes his mistake.  “You know who set the fire, don’t you?”

“I do,” confesses Lex.  “That wasn’t supposed to happen.  That idiot was supposed to observe you, report back to me if there was anything out of the norm.  If he didn’t find anything, he was supposed to just stop.  My guess is that he got desperate.  He must have picked up on your unsubtle hero complex and wanted to see how you would react to a fire at that particular place.”

The more he talks, the more Clark wants to hug Chloe for beating the hell out of him, or even scold her for not beating him up hard enough.  “You know, you’d think by now that I would be used to people going to great lengths to discover my secrets.  But you know what?  I haven’t gotten used to it.  I’ll _never_ grow used to it!  Chloe, Lois, and now you—people I have considered friend who have tried to discover my secrets.  Chloe was the easiest to forgive because I knew her the longest.  I forgave her, because she was a naïve intrepid reporter who had not yet learned that sometimes friendship is more important than a story.  Eventually, I did tell her my secrets, but when we both look back on it, we think that it wasn’t so much about a newsworthy story, so much as there being a big wall between us.  She was open with me and I wasn’t returning the favor all too well by being so secretive with her.”

“I can understand _that_ feeling,” says Lex, raising an eyebrow. 

Clark smiles venomously.  “You never did ask.  And I think I’m starting to see why my friendship with you made my father so uneasy.”

“He did, in fact, confront me on the matter.”  Clark blinks rapidly.  “Clark, you’ve always been a strange mystery.  The circumstances of when you first saved my life were weird.  I spent months trying to figure out why I survived that car crash and eventually your father figured it out and blackmailed me into stopping.  I’m not proud of the things I’ve done and I’m trying to make amends.”

“And picking me in Hawaii is your olive branch,” concludes Clark.  “How am I supposed to believe that you haven’t arranged for me to be captured under _your_ terms once we land?”

“You can’t,” says Lex, flatly.  “I’ve relinquished any reason for you to trust me many times over.  But this we can agree on:  if you aren’t home within a couple of days, I’m a dead man.  You think these bruises look bad enough?  Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m sure even you worry what Chloe would do if she has reason to believe that I played a part in you disappearing _again_.  Not to mention what your brother would do.”

Clark tries to smirk, but the thought actually scares him.  Oliver has gotten himself in trouble over the years for how far he goes when it comes to protecting Clark.  Chloe isn’t one to really lash out, but that doesn’t mean she won’t.  Lex hasn’t even mentioned Diana.  Combine all that anger and things are bound to get ugly.  Would Lois be angry? 

He thought he knew that woman, but now he doesn’t even know if she was truthful when she told him what her favorite color was.  All he does know is that he is growing to pity the woman.  She’s a victim, a puppet in a grander scheme. 

“What do you think of me, Lex?” he asks distantly.

The question seems to catch Lex off-guard.  “I beg your pardon?”

“What do you think of me?” Clark repeats.  “What comes to mind when you think about a guy who has superpowers on top of having hobbies that include fencing and archery?”

Lex sighs heavily.  He must not have expected to be asked that question, least of all by Clark.  “I think you’re dangerous.”

Clark motions for him to continue. 

“You have lots of power, powers that people can only dream of having,” the bald billionaire explains.  “I’ll admit, I did see an opportunity to talk you into enlisting in the military.  If things worked out, we would have negotiated deal where you would be more of a black ops specialist. You would have had enormous flexibility to keep your existence as secretive as possible.  I know now that you have no interest in serving and to a degree that makes you even more dangerous.”

“Why do I have to the government’s lackey in order to be less dangerous?” asks Clark reasonably.

“Because for some people you might as well be a beast who has been set loose,” replies Lex.  “There are people, myself included, who worry what would happen if you decided to not use your powers for good.  Let along lose your temper.”

“So the best solution is to keep me detained?” Clark fires back, his temper rising again.  “You’d rather prevent me from even having the choice to choose between right and wrong?  If you’re advocating for me to be imprisoned simply because of what I _might_ do, you might as well lock up everyone in the world.”

“Most people don’t have superpowers,” Lex points out. 

“No, but everyone’s capable of choosing right from wrong.  If I become a criminal, fine I’ll see you on jury duty.  You said at the airport that you don’t plan to betray my trust again.  Well you can start right now, so listen up.”

Lex straightens up in his seat. 

“I’m _never_ going to be a criminal.  I’ll only ever use my powers to help people.  If I end up having to take a life, it’ll never be out of malice.  And if the government wants to label me as a vigilante, they go can go screw themselves.”

Then the strangest thing happens.  It feels as if his whole body has been struck by a silent bolt of lightning.  If the sudden lack of tiredness is any indication, he knows what has happened. His powers are back.  If Jor-El can take away his powers from the top of the world, surely he also has methods of giving them back.  Was he impressed by what he heard?

All Clark knows is that he better not waste much more time before he returns to the Fortress of Solitude.  But he needs a proper opportunity to say goodbye to those he loves first.    

Lex doesn’t seem to notice as he reaches across the table, offering his hand.  Clark grasps it and they shake hands like they did at the airport. 

“I will hold you to that,” Lex declares sincerely. 


End file.
